


Eggs in a Basket

by LazyBaker



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alpha Hannibal Lecter, Alpha Will Graham, Alpha!Will, Alternate Universe, Belly Dancing, Domestic Fluff, Drunk Will, Fisting, Flirting, Hannictober Challenge, Hardcore fluff, Hurt Hannibal, Hurt/Comfort, Jealous Will, M/M, Murder Husbands, Nymph Will, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Sharing a Bed, Sick Hannibal, bottoming at the same time, domestic filth, post-season 3, season one, season two
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-05-02 13:55:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 68
Words: 42,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5250638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LazyBaker/pseuds/LazyBaker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of one-shots about Hannibal and Will from both prompts I've received and posts I've made on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hannibal's Good Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-Season 3. [tumblr post.](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/131623894351/the-tag-hannibals-good-boy-that-you-put-on-that)

Hannibal inspected the neatly diced tomatoes on the cutting board while Will shifted between the urge to roll his eyes and the new disturbing want to be praised.

 _Like some sort of dog_ , he thought. Eyeing the side of Hannibal’s face as if all the questions in his life would be answered. Which, usually, they would.

Hannibal picked at what seemed like a random piece. Will tried not to twitch too much.

He was an okay cook, he made every meal his dogs ate and he even managed to pick up a few knife skills from Hannibal, in and out of the kitchen. Still, he was nowhere near Hannibal’s level of cooking.

Hannibal set the piece back down and turned to Will, sidling up to him until he was nosing along his hair. A habit that was as much unintended as it was intended.

“You did a wonderful job, your cuts are uniform and exceptional,” said Hannibal. Kissing Will’s temple softly then his cheek, his arm sliding around Will’s middle. He kissed the corner of his mouth. “What a terribly good boy you are for me.”

Will set his hand with the knife down with great effort. His face was all too hot and it hardly helped that Hannibal’s breath was caressing him like a strike to his skin.

Will swallowed thickly around the heat settling inside of him.

“Only a masochist would say something like that to a man holding a knife.”

“Don’t be modest, Will,” Hannibal grinned at him, toothy and dangerous, which only made Will harder. “You’re the one who deserves a reward, after all.”


	2. Bearded Murder Husbands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-Season 3. [tumblr post.](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/131624287409/whispers-in-your-ear-bearded-murder-husbands)

The beard hadn’t been intentional. It just  _happened_. 

Months of recovery and rehabilitation had given Hannibal new limitations to what his body was capable of, despite how hard he pushed, there were physical restrictions. Cooking, a hobby he once took profound delight in became a chore between the high dosage of medication and the splitting pain in his side.

Shaving had seemed to have fallen by the wayside as well. 

He decided, while looking in the mirror and running a hand over his new patch of hair, a gun shot wound to the stomach was something he’d prefer to experience only once. 

Will stood behind him in the doorway, watching him silently. Will’s own beard was fuller than Hannibal’s, brown and thick. Temptingly soft. They made eye contact briefly before Will touched Hannibal’s hand slowly and pulled him back to the lounge chairs above deck.

Chiyoh was in the kitchen making a canned-vegetable soup, a novel spread open on the counter she was reading between stirs. She had grown into a beautiful woman, though she wasn’t nearly as talkative as she had been as a little girl. She nodded to them as they made their way.

“I like it,” Will said settling into his own chair. He lied in the sun, wholly comfortable in the arena of sailing. “Your beard.”

“Oh?” 

“Your whole–” Will waved his hand up and down, gesturing to his chest and face before giving up. A light flush blooming across his face. “You look good. Welcoming. Like a big fluffy dog.”

Hannibal huffed a little laugh that made his side twinge. 

“High praise indeed.”


	3. Hannibal Advent, Œuf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 1. [tumblr post.](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/133537797851/hannibal-advent-hannigram-edition-day-4-%C5%93uf)

The high point to Will’s trip, which could easily be generalized as the high point of any given day he leaves his home, was making the drive back to his little house in Wolf Trap. 

The bright yellow of the fields insistent in lightening his mood. His windows rolled down to air himself out of the stench of blood which clung to his clothes and sunk grit into his pores. It all helped to balance him, give him back his clean slate where he was no longer brittled and frightened of a mother he didn’t have. 

The sounds of his dogs, though, had him smiling. Happiness swelling in his chest at coming home to the only family he ever had and most likely will ever have.  

He left his duffle bag in the trunk of his car, hurrying to the door to let his pack out. He gave each dog a thorough petting and a few kisses. They were all excited to see him, tails wagging and thumping into each other, sniffing him hardily until he sat himself on the porch steps letting them have full range of his body.

They were clean, recently brushed. Fed. The anxiety of having been left alone having melted away. Well taken care of. Hannibal had done a good job.

Will had been hesitant to ask and surprised by how earnest Hannibal had been to offer his help. He had been so sincere, as if watching Will’s dogs made Hannibal  _happy_. 

The idea was absurd. Still, it had made Will warm when Hannibal had so willingly offered himself up.

Leaving his front door open, Will made a quick scan of the house. Besides the rumpled sheets on the bed and the dog beds and toys, nothing had changed. The water dishes were full. The heat turned on. A renewed wave of that earlier warmth washed over Will seeing his family and his home had been taken care of so well. 

Before he’d left, he’d made an attempt at tidying up. He wasn’t messy but compared to Hannibal and how meticulously clean he was, he’d felt bad at the idea the doctor would be surrounded by the general chaos of the dogs and Will’s own mess.

The night before his flight had been spent hurriedly scrubbing porcelain and sweeping up the floors.

It had been such a long time since he cared about what someone thought of his home. He wasn’t sure what to think of it all. It was an odd experience.

He grabbed the dogs’ food bowls and set them on the counter. It was nearing dinner time and feeding them a little earlier wouldn’t hurt. Hannibal had texted him the exact times he had fed and walked them every day. 

Hannibal walking seven dogs was an image he was sad he’d missed.

Opening the refrigerator, Will found not just the meals for his dogs already prepared, but new glass tupperware stacked up neatly on the middle shelf. All labelled with ‘ _For Will_ ’ neatly printed on a white strip and perfectly centered on the container. 

Popping the lid off the top one, Will felt his stomach growl. He realized he hadn’t eaten since yesterday. The food, whatever it was, smelled amazing. Delicately, he ate a small piece of the meat. It was so tender it practically melted in his mouth.

Embarrassingly, he moaned.

Will was eating one of Hannibal’s elegant and carefully prepared dishes with his fingers without having washed his hands. He wondered idly if Hannibal would disapprove of this and if he were here, would he tell Will to go wash up or simply let Will indulge himself?

Buster wandered up to him, his nose bumping Will’s shin. Will looked at him.

“He made me dinner.  _Meals_ ,” Will said in wonder. “What do you think, Buster. You like him?”

The little happy yip told Will everything he needed. 


	4. Compromises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-Season 3. [tumblr post.](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/133009404352/take-five-minutes-and-five-minutes-only-to-write-a)

There was a day when Hannibal would kill cleanly, not a speck of blood on his clothes or bare hands or face. But this was before the time where Will would kill beside him just as easily as he would sleep beside Hannibal in bed. 

Reluctant at first, but soon would become enthusiastic.

Now, Hannibal’s kills tended to be messy. Blood would be smeared and dripping, in lines parallel to veins and splatters reminiscent to the spontaneity of art. It was different from how he used to kill, but in it’s own way, it was just as stunning to see the essence of life smudged into his skin and to see the black of Will’s eyes. The sweat of his nape. The red that claimed them both.

In the moment, there was no greater feeling than standing besides Will in victory. Breathing his air. Feeling his heart beat alongside his own.

Hours later, the bestial nature of their kill would fade to the quiet calm of Will’s fingers threading through his hair. Lying stretched out in the tub, water coming up to his navel, the shower having washed all the red from him except for the stubborn blood in his hair, Hannibal closed his eyes and let the feeling of Will gently pulling at his hair overwhelm him.

“I should cut it,” Hannibal said. His hair was long, well passed his shoulders. Will’s fingers twitched, jerking hard only once. Accidental and telling. Hannibal tried not to grin.

“No,” Will rubbed at his scalp and with both hands ran the length of his hair in one swoop. “I like it long.”

“Not even a trim? An inch or two shorter?”

Then a sharp tug that exposed Hannibal’s throat. Will glared down at him, “No, Hannibal.”

“As you wish,” Hannibal smiled, teeth bared and sharp. Will kissed him.


	5. Reminders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-Season 3. [tumblr post.](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/132883769741/do-you-ever-feel-like-writing-something-about-how)

Will and Hannibal were  _Colyn_  and  _Leone Basque_  respectfully and officially if their passports were to be taken as the truth. Their new home was in the French Riviera. It was crowded and Will couldn’t go two paces without have to mutter a hurried ‘ _pardon_ ’, but he knew it was the best option at the moment. Getting lost in the crowd of a busy European city was one of their smarter ideas, even if Will would prefer to be sitting in a quiet house in the country where he could go days without seeing or hearing another person besides Hannibal.

But there would be time for that, for now Hannibal had found them a high-end apartment, rustic in all the ways that mattered aesthetically, while having the best of functionality the modern world had to offer. 

The apartment came furnished and Will had very little to move besides a suitcase of clothes. He was looking forward to a long nap that would take him away from the sounds of the city. He was going through arguments in his head to convince Hannibal to do the same. It was only a bit surprising how much Will found he liked having Hannibal in his bed, warm and soft and very welcoming. 

But as Will closed their apartment door, his strategic argument on the tip of his tongue, a knock came. She was a young girl with beautiful blonde curls and dark eyes holding a small package. Hannibal stood behind him and in soft gentle French greeted the girl. 

There was a quick back and forth. The girl, whose name was  _Julie_ , smiled brightly, all dimples and bubbling happiness that spread rosy on her cheeks. Hannibal had this particular effect on everyone at any age, apparently.

Julie left and Hannibal set the gift on the table. He was quiet as he moved to unpack their clothes, setting aside shirts that needed to be ironed.

Will felt the need to say something.

“Does she remind you of her?”

Hannibal paused, and then smiled. Eyes a little sad and a little happy, too.

“She does,” Hannibal said. Will ran his hand up and down Hannibal’s back, rubbing at the tense set of his shoulders, feeling his muscles slowly relax.


	6. Drunk Will

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-Season 3. [tumblr post.](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/132515010216/dear-granpappy-i-feel-like-the-fandom-hadnt)

“I’m not drunk,” Will said. His words slurring together as he fought to unbutton his shirt, his fingers fumbling and tripping. Hannibal would have helped, but it was quite difficult to set his wine glass down and interrupt the path Will had chosen.  
  
“Of course,” Hannibal nodded and sipped at his wine. Will ripped two buttons and his shirt finally made its descent to the floor. Will smiled at him, demure in the way his eyes fluttered brightly and his lashes blurred with his hair. He was strong and lean, marked with Hannibal’s hand – a vision.  
  
“I don’t get drunk.”  
  
“Never.”  
  
“Not since college,” Will straddled Hannibal’s lap, his good mood tangling with Hannibal’s own to make something even brighter. His one glass fell to the floor. Hannibal didn’t bother to look, instead gripped Will’s hips and kissed the middle of Will’s abdominal scar.  
  
Will’s stomach flexed and rolled, a move not at all reactionary but one full of intent and practice. Hannibal shifted, hands moving from Will’s hips to his thighs, grabbing the meat of his muscles hard and watched enraptured.  
  
“Something you learned between classes?”  
  
Will looked down at him, eyes hardly open and seemingly lost to music only he could hear, hands and fingers lightly tracing the shape of Hannibal’s head. He didn’t stop the rhythmic roll of his body.  
  
“Do you like it?”  
  
“How could I not,” Hannibal scraped his teeth along Will’s stomach, Will jumped. Moaned something soft and lingering. He stopped and settled on Hannibal’s lap.  
  
“I think I’m drunk,” Will said. He paused and looked down. “And you’re hard.”

Will bounced once and ground down, Hannibal’s hips jerked without his consent.   
  
“You’re a tease, Mr. Graham.”

Will grinned, happy and without any trace of shame, “Thank you, Dr. Lecter.”


	7. Sick Hannibal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-Season 3. [tumblr post.](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/132511013836/like-he-cant-just-leave-him-to-the-sea-it-must)

Hannibal was wrapped in three of their thickest blankets, curled in on himself in front of the fire. It was the middle of the summer and the house was stuffy and warm. Will wiped his forehead with his sleeve, already sticky with sweat, before carrying the breakfast tray to Hannibal.  
  
It was the third day of Hannibal’s cold, the novelty having run itself dry after the first hour of listening to his miserable sniffles. Hannibal’s nose was red and his eyes a glassy watery combination that made him appear horribly vulnerable.  
  
Will kissed his cheek, Hannibal half glared at Will.  
  
“I’m not laughing at you, Hannibal,” Will said, setting the tray down on the coffee table. “I made you lunch.”  
  
Hannibal hummed. It had been hours since Will had heard him speak, his throat was still sore. Will tried not to think how much he missed his voice.  
  
“Vegetable soup, what my daddy made for me and what I made for, well, you,” Will blew on the soup and held a spoonful up for Hannibal who was staring at him, bewildered. “I promise it’ll taste good. At the very least edible. Open up, please.”  
  
Hannibal opened his mouth just a bit, most likely to breathe but Will took what he could and managed to get the soup into Hannibal’s mouth.  
  
“Chicken stock, carrots, potatoes, and Mrs. Laurance,” Hannibal coughed, Will patted his back and bit his lip to stop from laughing. “I couldn’t help it.”  
  
“You’re in a charming mood, dear,” Hannibal said. His voice raspy and nasally. A croak with his accent running thick and slow as molasses.  
  
“It’s just nice. Taking care of you for a change.”  
  
Hannibal sniffed. Smiling just a little. “The soup is good.”  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
“Though I am congested.”  
  
“Ah,” Will tugged at Hannibal’s hair, pulling him in for a proper kiss. Not minding his chances of getting sick were quite high. “There you are.”


	8. Anthony Dimmond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-Season 3. [tumblr post.](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/134565932381/forever-bitter-that-anthony-dimmond-was-killed)

The resolution of the image was high quality, Will could see every single strand of hair on Anthony Dimmond’s well manufactured head and his smile wasn’t nearly as sleazy or as boring as Will had hoped. Clicking the mouse for more information on the deceased poet’s life, Will tapped at the trackpad of his computer a little harder than he’d prefer.

The similarities were there at first glance. The messy brown hair. The same scruffy beard Will had maintained for most of the time since knowing Hannibal. The warm clothes meant to bundle up. But where Will’s had been baggy and often hanging from his frame from unintentional weight loss and the stubborn refusal to give in and buy anything smaller, Dimmond’s were tight and form fitting.

With every new picture Will looked at he saw how well those clothes accentuated his form. He had a  _nice_  form. Better than the carved up one Will had.

Dimmond was suave and most likely rude in a charming way, another difference between them no matter what Hannibal might say about Will’s own unique social manners.  
  
Will hovered over the link to his poetry books. He wanted to look at them. Read what kind of words this man could come up with and why beyond looks Hannibal had found Dimmond so interesting to not kill him right away.  
  
Hannibal sat down on the couch beside him with a low groan. His side was still healing and Will was tempted to tell him to go back to bed. _Lie down before you bleed everywhere_. He didn’t look at the screen, rather stared at the side of Will’s face, but Will knew Hannibal knew who he was obsessing with.  
  
“This is an odd pass time, even for you, Will.”  
  
 _Says the cannibal_. Will bit his lip. There was no morality pedestal for either of them to stand on at this point.   
  
“I’m curious,” Will said. Admitting it grated on his nerves. He was irritated with Dimmond. He was irritated Hannibal had looked twice at this man.  
  
“Jealous over a dead man.”  
  
Will looked at the warm charm in Dimmond’s eyes. He shut his laptop with forced gentleness and balanced it on the small side table and determinedly took a long inhale through his nose, counted to ten, and breathed out. Smugness radiated off of Hannibal in thick gooey waves and Will refused to give an inch.  
  
“I think we might need to get a bigger place if I’m going to be rooming with your monolithic ego, Hannibal.”

Hannibal smiled, “An observation. Not an accusation.”

“I’m not jealous.”

“And I believe you.”

Will glared at him. His shoulder ached and his head hurt and Hannibal was too agreeable. It was pricking at his skin. 

“You’re not calling me out on lying. Are you enjoying me like this? Jealous and stupid over a man you killed years ago?” Hannibal tilted his head, moved so his leg was on the couch and he was facing Will. “What am I saying, of course you are.”

“I’ve never been fond of jealousy, but with you it’s oddly effective. So much so I wonder what you would have done if you’d met him in person. Knowing he’d been to my apartment and eaten one of my meals and was alive to walk out the door on his own feet. The possibilities leave me…” Hannibal trailed off, his skin flushing and Will felt his own face darken, his heart pick up, “Breathless.”

Will swallowed thickly. Stared at his hands in his lap. Wondered again about the pain medicine he’d been taking for the past few weeks. He wasn’t dead and his thoughts were his own. Hannibal had been a perfect gentleman. A good friend, even. Whatever that meant in their context.

“You want me to tell you I’d hurt him, don’t you?” Hannibal was calm, as if they were talking about what was for lunch. Will placed a hand on his knee, wanted to ruffle his perfect demeanor just a little.

Hannibal blinked. 

“I’d kill him,” Will said. Hannibal leaned closer, placed his hand over Will’s, keeping him from moving. Will had nowhere to go and nowhere he wanted to be more.

“Would you?”

“Yes,” He wondered if he meant it. 


	9. The Biggest Temptation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-Season 3. [tumblr post.](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/134248171886/can-you-continue-the-ski-thing-with-will-taking) Written as fic for bansheegrahamtao's [comic.](http://bansheegrahamtao.tumblr.com/post/134227129450/watch-the-ing-track-and-not-me-comments)

Hannibal wore a broken nose and a neck brace as elegantly as he did any one of his suits. Though tartan rarely made Will laugh as hard as he did when he’d turned in the car at one of the many stop lights to check on him and saw Hannibal moodily pouting, his thin lips jutting out childishly, and glaring at Will’s phone. The brace kept him from looking down and he had to hold the phone up to his face.

Will didn’t bother to try and stifle his laughter. Hannibal stiffly turned his entire upper body to glare at him.

“I’m sorry,” Will said between snorts. He didn’t mean it and Hannibal’s glare becoming a little more sharp showed Hannibal knew Will didn’t. 

Hannibal sighed, winced, and then settled back in the passenger seat. They were ten minutes from the resort and it would take longer with all the traffic, the road seemed to have been blocked after a new bout of snow while they had been at the ER.

The car seats were heated and the air vents were pumping a steady stream of hot air in their faces. Will moved his hand from the steering wheel to clasp Hannibal’s knee, rubbing small circles with his thumb.

“This is an awful picture, Will. I want to erase it,” Hannibal said. 

“No.”

“I’m in a brace. On pain medication. I would think you’d want to ease my discomfort in some small way since this is your fault.”

The light turned to green, but there was nowhere for Will to go, his foot held steady on the brake. He snatched his phone from Hannibal’s hands and put it in his outer jacker’s pocket.

Will made a show of rolling his eyes, “I didn’t cause anything. You were the one who couldn’t keep his eyes on the trail–”

“I looked away for a moment because you–”

Will held his hand up, cutting Hannibal off, “You were staring at my ass and you clipped a tree. You’re lucky you didn’t slam  _into_  the tree.”

Hannibal sniffed. If it weren’t for the brace he would have tilted his head upwards to show how above this conversation he was. 

“If you want to put it so simply, I suppose.”

“Hannibal, Hannibal, Hannibal,” Will sighed. Letting his name roll off his tongue as it tended to do these days. The light was red and Hannibal was once again pouting. 

Will bit his lip and smiled. Smiling came easier these days as well. 

He reached out and held Hannibal’s hand and then lifted it to his mouth, pecking small kisses along his knuckles.

Hannibal melted in his seat.

“I still want you to delete that picture.”

“Nope,” Will said, muffled as he continued kissing Hannibal’s hand, turning to kiss his palm, following the trail up each of his fingers. “I’m going to print it and then I’m going to frame it, put it on the end table beside the bed. Or maybe hang it on the wall.”

“I’ll throw it out.”

“And I’ll print another one.”

“Rude,” Hannibal said. Fond and sweet and barren of any resentment Will would have once expected to be there.

The light turned green and the road had cleared just enough. Will let go of Hannibal’s hand with one final kiss, open mouthed with a small lick at the end, a promise for later.


	10. Bottoming for Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-Season 3. [tumblr post.](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/132451683526/i-now-demand-double-bottoming-murder-husbands-fic)

The only thing Hannibal says is a soft ‘ _Oh_ ,’ arching slightly into Will’s space, stomach brushing against Will’s cock, Hannibal’s fingers already making Will’s nerves raw buried inside his ass.

Will doesn’t think much about it, relying on instinct as he does these days. He thinks of the clenching heat, the way Hannibal spasms and seems to glow underneath him, the way his eyes flutter and the shallow breath that turns into dark moans, slipping between languages so quickly Will can never keep up to name them all. 

Will had been overcome with the way Hannibal looks getting fucked, blurring the visceral image with his own aching itch and how his back hurts with how hard he’s arching to get Hannibal’s fingers inside him. 

“I want you to feel me,” He says, pressing and circling the little rim of muscle that’s always been so welcoming to him. 

“Of course,” Hannibal sighs, kisses him so hard his teeth ache and they seem melt and suddenly Will has more limbs, two sets of arms and two sets of legs, he has a thick thatch of chest hair and a warm belly that loves to be nuzzled on cold nights.

They’re conjoined and Will wonders if they’ll ever be two again.


	11. A Bit of Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-Season 3. [tumblr post.](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/132029154216/ok-but-what-about-will-using-the-excuse-that-his)

_It was his arm_ , that’s what Will told Hannibal. The old joint acting up after so much abuse over the years.

A few stab wounds. Dislocations. A dive into the ocean via one cliff wasn’t good for anyone’s health. It was a plausible excuse, one he’s used before in earnest, and Will was only slightly surprised when Hannibal believed it so easily. It still made his chest clench in that uncomfortable and pristinely clear way when Hannibal took every word he said to heart.  
  
He almost felt bad for lying. And he stressed the word ‘ _almost_ ’ because very few things eased the sensation of guilt like having a front row seat to Hannibal Lecter shirtless chopping firewood in the growing slope of autumn.  
  
Will sat on the front porch holding a bag of ice against his shoulder, it was unneeded and making the tips of his fingers a little numb, but he kept up the charade to watch how Hannibal’s back flexed as a severe sculpture would. Each movement seemed to be the perfect moment captured in smooth bronze and Will twitched to touch him.   
  
Hannibal paused, wiped the sweat from his brow and Will bit his lip. A little moan escaped, he flushed knowing Hannibal would hear him and know exactly why Will couldn’t seem to contain himself. He pressed the bag of ice a little harder against his shoulder.  
  
“How’s the arm? Any better?” Hannibal said. He placed another log in position and brought the axe down swiftly, neatly cutting it in two. Will shifted and set the ice down, placing his hands in between his inner thighs to warm himself up.   
  
“I think the joint’s rusted.”  
  
“Oh?” Hannibal swung the axe, embedding it into the old tree trunk. He stretched his back then his arms, Will could hear a few of his joints popping. “Is that so? How awful.”  
  
“It hurts,” Will said, he tumbled into a small whining voice. It was habit when it came to Hannibal, knowing how much he liked Will being a bit needy. Well, more than  _just_  a bit.  
  
“A lot?”

“On a scale of one to ten I’d say I’m about a sixty-two.”  
  
“That bad?” Hannibal made a short little tsk, his face becoming full of faux-disapproval. “You should be in bed, Will. The cold isn’t good for your poor arm.”

“Would you tuck me in?” Will fought back a smile, it was difficult. He was reluctant for their harmless game to end.   
  
“Of course.”  
  
“Even read me a story?”  
  
“My dear,” Hannibal placed his hand on top of Will’s head, combing through his hair, pulling lightly at a few strands. Will leaned into his touch. “Shall I kiss it better?”  
  
Will looked up at the long stretch of tan skin, the slight swell of his stomach, grey chest hair that he had a propensity for spending long moments rubbing his face against, meeting Hannibal’s eyes.   
  
He was smiling. Will smiled back.  
  
“I think,” Will said in a long drawl. “That might just do the trick, Doctor.”


	12. Let's Talk About -- Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 1. [tumblr post.](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/131509509786/the-prequel-to-this-post-will-wished-with-some)

Will wished with some urgency that he’d worn his glasses to put some sort of buffer between him and Hannibal, who seemed to be out for blood today. He eyed his coat from across the room, his glasses were tucked into the inner pocket.

The office was well heated, thawing his cold hands within minutes, tempting him to unbutton one or two of his shirt buttons or roll up his sleeve. Will was glad he wasn’t sweating. He needed to leave something to Hannibal’s imagination.

“Tell me Will, when was the last time you had sex?” Hannibal said. He leaned back in his chair, long legs crossed, tone as if he was asking about something as mundane as the last time Will had gone fishing.

It’s a skill Will admired and disliked all in one. He shifted in the chair. Regretted having sat down. If he got up now it would only be too obvious how uncomfortable he was and he wasn’t about to give in quite so easily.

“Is this an uncomfortable subject for you?”

“You know me, I’m an open book.”

“You would hardly be as interesting as you are if you were.”

Will picked at a thread on his cuff, plucking it loose. A well worn shirt he’s had for years.

“A broken mind to be picked at and examined,” Will smiled to himself. “Fascinating, I’m sure.”

“Hardly broken. Simply needing an understanding ear,” Hannibal paused. Will actively stilled his leg, anxiety an unpleasant pulse.

“A bit personal, isn’t it?” Will tried to keep out the bite.

Hannibal, who never quite held his head upright, let his posture lean even more to the left, shifted into a state of blatant curiosity. There was no ticking clock but he could feel the seconds stretch and the yawning pretense of professionalism evaporate.

He didn’t quite know what that said about Hannibal. Knew even less what it said about him for staying in his seat.

“No more than brushing one’s teeth.”

Will smiled. “Twice a day for me.”

“You have quite an active libido then.”

“I’m talking about brushing my teeth.”

“I know.” Hannibal inclined his chin, not quite a smile or laugh but close. Will took what good humor he could from him and held it close to his chest. “You’re quite pale. Heavy bags under your eyes. You’ve lost weight as well.”

Unkempt. Tired. Grasping for whatever sanity he had left and having to drill new holes into his belts to keep up with his ever thinning body. He should buy new pants but it would be like accepting what was happening.

Being stubborn was a well worn Graham trait.

“You know how to make a guy feel good about himself.”

“Would you like me to flatter?”

Will shook his head too quickly. He could only imagine the types of compliments Hannibal could weave. Thick and ornate, true in ways that were charming and close enough to cut.

It would be uncomfortable and give Will more ideas than he already had. He didn’t think he could stomach sweet words in Hannibal’s accent without making himself an even bigger fool.

“Just,” Will swallowed, parched and willing time to move just a bit faster. “You didn’t really build up to it, is all. Usually you’re more subtle with what path you’re leading me down.”

“There are times where holding hands will be more treacherous than a swift push.”

“Not the most comforting metaphor.”

“But an apt one,” Hannibal tilted his head to the right like a tiller of a ship. They were headed towards rockier waters and Will could only hold on to the arms of the chair for safety. “You’re tired. I fear a hardy meal will be unable to do the trick this time.”

“And the conclusion to this is getting me laid?”

Hannibal uncrossed his legs and leaned forward so his elbows rested on his thighs, hands clasped together in the perfect balance of calm and insistent.

Will felt strapped to the chair. Thick rope tied around his arms and legs. No where to go. No where to hide. He kept his eyes to Hannibal’s chin with vigilance.

“Sleeping pills would work as well, but I’m not inclined to prescriptions unless the need is absolute.”

“And for me it’s not?”

He shook his head. “Do you see yourself as an attractive man, Will?”

“I think any answer I give will only make me sound narcissistic.”

“You’ve never censored yourself before with me.”

“This feels too…” Will took a breath and rolls around what this would say about himself and why it was that he cared what Hannibal would think. He didn’t exactly like the answer. “Too normal.”

Hannibal’s arched eyebrow was the equivalent of a toothy grin. Will felt himself smile as well.

“And normalcy is not what we do.”

"It doesn’t feel like it,” Will knew what normal was and normal never made his heart beat like this or made him look at himself with more than a grudging passivity for who he was. It wasn’t ordinary and it wasn’t at all normal. It was better than all those.

“Talking to people has never been good for me,” Will scratched at his beard. He needed to trim it. He corrected himself. “I’ve never been good with talking to people.”

“Having to complete the expected societal obligations.”

“A fancy way of saying ‘being polite’,” Will said and looked to his shoes, scuffed despite having cleaned them two days ago. The scratches were deep and wouldn’t be coming out. “I absorb too much, I lose myself.”

It hurt to admit. Something as simple as small talk was too risky for him. These days he kept to himself. His students had the good sense to know he’d prefer email over face-to-face conversations. Though that may have been as much for them as it was for him.

“And who do you see, Will?” Hannibal said. His focus was sharp. It pierced through Will’s ribs and into the back of the chair, seeing through him to his marrow. “When you look in the mirror, who looks back at you?”

He saw a man who looked beaten down, who could hardly stand eating a piece of toast most days, and a man who looked like the vertebrae holding him up were about to be crushed into fine powder and leave him on the floor, unable to stand again.

 _Frightened_ , he thought. The word standing out in his mind. It wasn’t exactly a new feeling. It was as old as he was.

He refrained from saying this though, unable to get the words out tonight.

“I’m attractive, I guess.”

“Guess?”

“Handsome, maybe.”

“You’re unsure and yet you look in the mirror everyday.”

“Maybe I avoid looking so close.”

“From a distance then. What do you think of the man you see reflected?”

“What about you, Dr. Lecter? Who do you see?” Will cut him off. It was rude, but he was curious. Maybe even more than Hannibal was.

Hannibal didn’t blink or show any sign Will had thrown him off. The cool look returned to him before Will realized just how effected Hannibal had been seconds ago. He bit back his disappointment in himself that he hadn’t read Hannibal right.

The man’s cues were difficult to sort out, but Will found he was picking them apart more and more accurately. Still, there were a few times he missed.

“A man trying to help his very stubborn friend.”

Will huffed. “You don’t have issues with how you look.”

“I present myself to the world how I want to be seen. If I’m ever underwhelmed by my self, then I’ll change.”

“It’s that easy for you?”

Hannibal leaned back in his chair, long legs once again crossing. He wasn’t closing himself off, he was watching Will with more seriousness, the good humor having wandered off at some point when Will hadn’t been looking.

“Deciding on how we’re perceived is something every human does. You make it a challenge rather than an opportunity.”

“An opportunity?”

“You choose to wear glasses to avoid eye contact. You choose to slouch. You choose to minimize yourself in public and be perceived as less than your better self.”

Will swallowed around a thick lump in his throat, nerves rankled with the possibility of stomping out of Hannibal’s office gaining more and more clarity.

“I thought we weren’t holding hands?”

“I was unable to ignore your hand seeking my own,” Hannibal said. Will had to look away from Hannibal completely, finding a spot on the rug’s intricate pattern to focus his attention on before he snapped his eyes back up to him. “Would you like another push instead?“

"I’m not sure my self esteem could handle that kind of fall.”

"Nonsense.” Hannibal smiled, his eyes crinkled and his lips hardly moved. Will was thoroughly enveloped in his gaze. “I’d catch you.”


	13. Let's Talk About -- Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 1. [tumblr post.](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/131436087096/the-last-time-i-had-sex-will-stopped)

“The last time I had sex.” Will stopped, collecting the bits of memory and pulling them into something tangible. “I stole the woman’s dog. It was before chipping was common. She didn’t know my name and I don’t want to remember hers. I could see his ribs and he flinched when she looked at him.” 

She had brown eyes that would undoubtedly look less kind when he was sober.

“I fucked her and I took her dog.”

He laughed long and hard, stomach cramping. It didn’t stop him. Hannibal huffed alongside him, breathy and low. An attractive sound. Delicate, even.

“Do you still have him?”

Will nodded. “Buster.”

“The one with the underbite?”

“Ugly little shit, isn’t he?” Will turned his head to look at Hannibal. He was soft in the dim light of the room. Softer under the cheap inn blankets and duvet.

“Ugly and happy.” Hannibal shifted, the blankets tugged slightly. “Did you ever see her again?”

“Once. It was right before I moved up here. She didn’t look all that sad. Never even saw any missing posters for him.”

“She didn’t deserve him.”

“Yeah.” Will sighed, he pulled the blankets up until they met the bottom of his nose. The smell of detergent was strong, a relief that it was clean. He’d been to more hotels and inns and motels than he’d like to remember that had dirty sheets waiting for him to sleep in.

Hannibal would never sleep in something so unhygienic. At the time Will had been too tired to care, wanting only somewhere to lay down and rest his head for the few hours.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re apologizing quite a lot tonight.”

“I was an ass to you and you didn’t deserve it.” Will rubbed his eyes quickly, clutched at his hair until it stung. He hated how his voice shook and shuddered out of him. “I woke you up at two in the damn morning with my shit and now I’m in your bed. God.”

“You sought help and knocked on my door.” Will could hear the humor trailing after his words. “And as you so wonderfully put it, I chose to be kind and helped you.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“And as I said before and will undoubtedly keep saying, I wanted to. Don’t be ashamed of your vulnerability, Will. It’s human nature to seek comfort.”

Will held back from asking if Hannibal ever did the same. If there was someone he would go to in the middle of the night and ask to be let in. He couldn’t picture it. Hannibal was stability. He was the foundation Will was struggling to hold onto.

Will stared up at the stucco of the ceiling. The little bumps moved like waves to him every time he blinked. The soup was settling in his stomach, he didn’t feel quite as hollow as he had for the last few weeks.

Hannibal’s breathing was even but Will knew he wasn’t asleep. There was still an air of awareness between them. Will could feel his eyes on him, not seeking to pick him apart only watching him with more patience than Will had ever thought possible for any human to have.

It was a relief, oddly.

“It’s strange that I brought up sex when we’re in the same bed, isn’t it?”

Hannibal hummed and Will for a moment thought he could feel the low vibrations in his chest, a comforting sensation pushing him far from sleep. He turned to face Hannibal, looked at his hands open and relaxed on the bed between them. Hardly a foot separated them.

Hannibal had big hands.

It would be easy enough to kiss him. If he’d push his hands down Hannibal’s pants and jerk him off, Hannibal would let him, would bring Will into his arms and hold him.

Will shivered.

“Are you cold?”

He shook his head.

“It’s a natural connection.” Hannibal said slowly, the early wake up showed even he was susceptible to a lack of sleep. “We’re two adults sharing a bed for the night.”

Hannibal shifted, his bangs hung over his forehead. Will wanted to brush them away.

“Sex would be the next logical step in our path.” Hannibal said.

Will nodded and tried to act like this wasn’t effecting him. His skin wasn’t on fire and he wasn’t unpleasantly needy.

“You like me.”

“I do.”

“I don’t understand why.”

“You will.”

Hannibal moved slowly, Will stayed put and held his breath waiting for what Hannibal was about to do next. He combed through Will’s wet hair, pushing the few unruly curls back and out of his vision.

Will blinked and closed his mouth.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.” Hannibal said without embarrassment, a feat Will would surely be unable to accomplish.

A bubbling sense of ridiculousness overflowed inside him and he laughed, a quick short burst at first which was followed by a long string of snorts and half-gasped laughter. He felt light. The weight of the night finally dissipating and leaving Will wrung out in the audacity of himself and Hannibal. Will covered his mouth attempting to muffle the noises he was making.

Hannibal smiled, his teeth showing slightly between the crook of his lips–sharp and animalistic–endearing.

Will reached over, his hand shaking, and nudged a few strands of hair from Hannibal’s forehead.

Hannibal’s eyes were warm. The darkness made it easier for Will to keep looking.

“Me too.”


	14. A New Addition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-Season 3. [tumblr post.](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/130785792001/hannibal-brings-home-a-basenji-dog-as-a-gift-for)

Will stared at the small puppy who for the past hour had been occupying Hannibal’s lap receiving several languid pats on the head. Hannibal seemed content to read his book one handed with the ball of fluff leaving Will to entertain himself.  
   
“Jealousy looks awfully charming on you,” said Hannibal, looking up from his book. The dog stared back at Will with a very unimpressed expression.  
  
“I’m not jealous.”  
  
He tried to mean it, but he was jealous. He wanted the dog to like him, too. And he wanted to be the one in Hannibal’s lap. His ears burned in embarrassment, not wanting to be the type of man to cuddle up to Hannibal of all people and find comfort in being pet.   
  
He didn’t seem to believe Will and neither did the dog, who huffed at him. Hannibal set his book down on the coffee table then picked the dog up and set her on the rug. She curled up in front of the fire.  
  
“Come.” He patted his lap. Expecting Will to simply sit on him, forgetting all pride and any dignity that might still be clinging to his bones. Will wanted to turn on his heel and not give him the satisfaction.  
  
Instead, with his heart beating too fast and his arms and legs feeling too long and awkward, he lowered himself onto Hannibal’s lap feeling both too big and suddenly very small. He tucked his head under Hannibal’s chin.  
  
Hannibal threaded his fingers through Will’s hair, petting him. Will didn’t feel as ridiculous as he felt he should.


	15. The Nymph -- Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternate Universe where Will is a nymph from a painting Hannibal owns who comes to life. [tumblr post.](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/134568915201/i-cant-get-over-that-wood-nymph-pic-what-if-it)

Hannibal followed the strange scent up to his bedroom. The green of an old forest surrounded him. Clean dirt that was never disturbed by any human. Fresh air filled with untamed nature. The alluring smell was behind his closed bedroom door. He held the scalpel loosely in his right hand and pushed the door open slowly.

The boy was sitting on his bed. Papers surrounding him, covering the duvet and the floor. Hannibal did not drop the scalpel, but it was close. 

“Hello,” Hannibal said, keeping his voice soft. The boy was nervous. Hannibal looked to the painting on the opposite wall. Saw that the nymph of  _Garden Nymph_  was nowhere to be seen, leaving behind only a landscape of thick forest and wildflowers.

The painting,  _Garden Nymph_ , had been one of a set of three paintings by Norman Prescott-Davies. The other two having been lost to a fire. Hannibal had fallen in love with the quiet intimacy of it, a young boy painted lovingly by a sure hand. He’d won it at the auction, paying thousands over the starting price, unwilling to let it go to anyone else.

And now the nymph Hannibal gazed at every night before falling asleep was here on his bed. Pale and ethereal, even in the low lighting of the room. 

The boy was quiet, watching Hannibal. Waiting for something to happen. 

“Are you hungry?” Hannibal said. After a moment the boy nodded. Hannibal walked over the papers, he would have to sort them out and peruse them later. The boy inched back, but did not run away. 

He would need to ask for his name, get him proper clothes that would not seem out of place in Baltimore. Prepare the guest bedroom. First, though, he would cook for him. Give this boy the same pleasure he had given Hannibal so many nights as he’d watched this small nymph live between each brushstroke. 

Hannibal slid the scalpel back into his pocket and held out his hand, excitement rushing through him with so many possibilities ahead, “Come. Let me feed you.”


	16. Will Wears Short-Shorts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-Season 3. [tumblr post.](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/134900182021/tbh-i-need-more-hannibal-not-being-able-to-handle)

Will was sweating, his hair slicked back and his entire chest and back shone like a beacon to Hannibal who couldn’t take his eyes off him and the tight angles of his body. 

The heat of spring was something neither of them were accustomed to, Will had taken to wearing as little clothing as possible and Hannibal had found a tailor who worked wonders with breathable fabric which was both stylish and didn’t suffocate his skin.

Nothing had stopped the sweltering heat and although it was hardly passed nine in the morning, the sun was blistering and surging, rolling onto them like a thick blanket they were only ever relieved from when a short breeze happened by.

The doors and windows were open. Hannibal’s tablet balanced on his leg, he’d been searching for a reputable company to add AC to their new home .

“How was your run?” Hannibal said, eyes not leaving the long expanse of Will’s legs.

Will wiped his face with the kitchen cloth, then his neck and shoulders, finally under his arms and trailing swiftly down to his stomach. He bundled it up and tossed it into the sink. Hannibal drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair.

“Hot,” Will said. He opened the refrigerator, pulled out a water bottle. Held it against his forehead. “Good, but  _hot_.”

Hannibal hummed, fingers tracing his bottom lip. Will was tanner. His legs were long, thin but muscular. The hem of his shorts had ridden up and revealed more tan sensitive skin, stopping only where Will’s grecian thighs met and sloped outwards for his rather large package.

The fabric was thin and soaked in sweat. Hannibal could see every detail. It was a wonder Will wasn’t falling out of those shorts.

Hannibal licked his lips. It was obscene, wonderfully so. 

“You’re staring,” Will took a long drink of water. He set the bottle on the counter.

“I’m quite taken with the view.”

Will rolled his eyes, his skin already flushed grew darker. “Right. I’m taking a shower.”

“No.”

“No?”

Hannibal slid the cover onto his tablet, stood, and started unbuttoning his shirt. Will didn’t move, his hands hung loosely at his sides as Hannibal trailed one hand down to the waistband of his shorts. His stomach jumped. Hannibal slid one finger inside, felt the strong heat between Will’s legs. 

“Not just yet.”


	17. Will is Not Subtle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-season 3. [tumblr post](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/143715026831/can-we-talk-about-hannibal-and-will-hiding-their)

It’s the third time Hannibal’s one and only suitcase gets left behind that he starts to suspect it may not be an accident caused by the rush to keep moving.

It’s also the red of Will’s ears and the way he can’t quite meet Hannibal’s eyes as he holds out a pair of his own pants and one of his more stretchable shirts for Hannibal to sleep in.

“If you prefer me to dress differently, there are other ways to do that other than throwing my clothes away.” Hannibal says in lieu of a thank you, though he does nod a nonverbal thanks. He is grateful to wear something other than what he’s been wearing for the past three days.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Will meets his eyes this time, face flushed. A reaction he’s incapable of curbing. Hannibal is also grateful for this.

Will’s lips are thin and determined and so very much the man Hannibal adores and he rewards him by stripping his shirt off in one quick movement causing Will’s eyes to bulge. Hannibal can smell him beginning to sweat and arousal is not too far behind.

Next his pants and then his underwear–Will doesn’t make a sound but Hannibal feel his eyes on him–both are folded along with his shirt and set on the bed.

He stands there, hands on hips, and let’s Will look. Sweet Will who, despite his flustered nerves, meets Hannibal’s challenge and looks him from head to toe, eyes skittering and pausing on Hannibal’s growing erection.

Without a word Hannibal turns, takes Will’s offered clothes with him to the motel bathroom. Grins when Will’s breath startles out of him.

Before shutting the door Hannibal can’t resist one last poke. “If you’d prefer me naked, then by all means, please throw those clothes out too.”

He shuts the door. Listens to Will groan and is enormously pleased with himself.


	18. Art AU -- Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU where Will is an art student and Hannibal is his art teacher. [tumblr post](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/142724216371/wtf-write-that-art-au-pls-how-can-you-say-all)

Will was bent over the trash can in the corner of the room near the door, trying to focus on the glide of his razor scraping and sharpening his charcoal pencil without breaking it–again–while ignoring the _not quite loud but loud enough in a large concrete room_ comments from Zeller.

“I don’t know why we even bother coming to class,” Zeller grunted to Price, who Will knew was half listening to Zeller’s ranting. As usual. “It’s not like Lecter pays anyone other than Graham attention. We could probably all ditch and he wouldn’t notice as long as his ‘ _Dear Will_ ’ was still here.” Zeller said, attempting to mimic Hannibal’s speech.

Will’s face burned. _Dear Will_. Hannibal’s lilting voice was still ringing in his head from last week and he couldn’t quite believe Hannibal called him that even after an entire weekend with his head shoved under a pillow blushing and flustered and aware of too many things. 

And he didn’t want to think at all about how much he liked being called _Dear Will_ by _The_ Hannibal Lecter. That was yet another thing he struggled to repress with any success.

“Z,” Beverly hushed Zeller, “Would you stop being such a dick. It’s not Graham’s fault you can’t draw for shit.”

“You know, I got into this class too–”

“–You did and I would expect my students to have some semblance of manners, Mister Zeller,” Hannibal said. Will’s hands jerked violently at Hannibal’s abrupt arrival–how did he even get in the room without him hearing?–his razor dropped into the bin and his pencil broke in half. 

Hannibal set his large clipboard on the one free easel which happened to be next to Will’s and smiled serenely at Zeller’s pale face. 

“You are not only in college, Mister Zeller, but you are also in my class. I expect more from you as both an artist and a man,” Hannibal paused, dramatic and everyone holding their breaths including Will. “You’ll find I don’t like being disappointed,” Hannibal said softly. Zeller had deflated, eyes focused on his sketch pad.

Hannibal clapped his hands together, the spell breaking, looking around the room. “Now, let’s begin.”

He caught Will’s eyes and his smile widened and somehow in that brief second there was a warmth there just for him.

 _Dear Will_ , said with tenderness still echoing around the room.

Will wanted to climb into the trash and hide. Being so in-tune with another person was one of the reasons he’d been hesitant about going to art school. Chances of seeing too much in such an extreme environment were almost enough for him to not even bother. 

But he had and here he was, freshman year and somehow in the most sought after class with–he’d heard from his advisor–the longest waitlist the school ever experienced that they had to enforce an actual cut-off.

It was humbling and terrifying and thrilling enough to make his hands shake. 

Will smiled back, matching the warmth Hannibal had built in his chest, picking his razor out of the bin and wiping it off on his jeans. He began to sharpen his pencil. Again.


	19. Art AU -- Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr post](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/142747697571/yes-hi-i-am-here-to-prompt-you-for-more-of-your)

Will froze, pencil hovering over the area where the nose of the model would go, extremely aware of Hannibal standing behind him, watching.

“Go on,” Hannibal said. Will looked over his shoulder–Hannibal had his arms behind his back, watching with a keen interest he rarely gave anyone else. He’d never seen a teacher so blatantly obvious about who he found interesting and who he didn’t.

Will seized up and tried to focus on the scrape of his pencil on the paper, how the lighting made the model’s chin slope delicately, the soft way a curl of her hair touched her neck. He made a mark pressing too hard on the paper. He grabbed his eraser, pulling at the grey rubber and blotted at his misstep and tried his best to remove it. 

It was still there, an ugly mistake.

He sighed, wanting to start over. He would have had Hannibal not been looming behind him.

“You’re too stiff,” Hannibal said.

 _Stop watching me then_ , Will bit his lip. Annoyed by such an obvious comment. Of course he was too stiff. It was the third week of classes and he still wasn’t used to having teachers watch him draw or paint or exist. It was unnerving and made his arm and apparently even his mind lock up.

“I’m not used to people watching me,” Will grunted, gripping his pencil too tightly, the tip snapped off on his hand. He stared at it blankly for a moment, not quite sure if his luck was truly this horrible. 

His other pencils, lined up neatly on his easel, were all broken as well.

Hannibal followed his gaze. Will could feel Hannibal’s amusement growing behind him. He flushed.

“I didn’t mean to spook you,” Hannibal said, not sounding remotely apologetic. 

“You–” Will stumbled over his words, embarrassed by something that happened every single day except this time it was in front of _Hannibal_. “You’re fine. Sorry, I’ll just go sharpen these.”

Which would give him time to cool off and for him to gather the mess that was himself and for Hannibal to move on to the next student.

“Let me?” Hannibal moved to Will’s side, blocking Will from walking off, holding his hand up for Will’s pencil and eraser. Will swallowed thickly, feeling somewhat of a failure, but too curious to see Hannibal work again to not give in. 

Will handed over his material and moved out of the way. Hannibal pulled a scalpel out of his pant’s pocket and Will watched in awe as as he expertly sharpened Will’s pencil to the pointiest its ever been, exposing a long tapered line of charcoal, his fingers dexterously rotating it, shaving it cleanly. Will wanted to applaud when he finished.

“Always have your pencil sharp,” Hannibal said overly seriously. “And don’t squeeze it too tight. The charcoal inside is a delicate thing and must be handled with as much care as the piece you’re working on.”

Will nodded.

Hannibal held Will’s pencil delicately in his hand. He sized up the model from his new angle and quickly laid down swift marks, long straight lines that built the foundation for a sturdy drawing, correcting Will here and there.

“You have quite a lot of potential, Will,” Hannibal said, quietly so only Will could hear. Will crossed his arms over his chest, still uncomfortable with such direct praise. “You already know how to interpret the light and the shadow, not just copy. You create something elegant in your lines, though they are a bit rough and a tad too brutal for the paper. One must always remember the teeth of the material you’re working on.” Hannibal flashed Will a grin, his teeth sharp and angular and unexpected. It made Will blink hardily, both from the cheesy joke and the sudden appearance of it. 

“Thank you,” Will said. He felt like the air had both left him and had come all at once, leaving him light headed. 

Hannibal stepped back, studying the drawing and then looked at Will, a small smile on his face.

“There are very few things I need to correct. You know your proportions. The human body is something you’re quite familiar with,” Hannibal said.

Studying anatomy until two in the morning and falling asleep with his head cushioned by books definitely left him semi-acquainted with the body. 

He nodded, not believing his tongue could handle so many words after so much praise. Hannibal understood–another odd thing Will wasn’t used to–looking kindly at him. 

“Your strokes, though, are too brash. You’re spontaneous with your lines and your lines are too harsh too early for a study like this.”

“Oh,” Will said, deflating.

“I’m nitpicking. Don’t look so sad.”

“Sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for,” Hannibal set Will’s pencil and eraser down gently on the easel. “I’ve seen your portfolio. Be proud of your skills, Will.”

Will opened his mouth and closed it. He didn’t know what to say or what he could say. Hannibal watched him, head cocked to the side. He looked like when he was on the precipice of drawing–deciding to see which line to start with, which brick to lay down first.

A long moment stretched to an even longer one. Hannibal nodded and moved on to the next student, Peter.

Will wondered which brick Hannibal had settled on and what the man would try to build with it.

He stared at his sketch, parsing out which marks were his own and which were Hannibal’s. While his were spontaneous, Hannibal’s were constrained, years of experience compacted into something so small and brief, each exactly where they should be. None of them running off wildly like Will’s.

He rubbed his thumb along one of the light and thoughtful lines Hannibal had left, smudging the model’s eye, not minding the mess on his hand or the mess he created.


	20. Squeak-Squeak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-season 3. [tumblr post](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/142610824161/zabira-ever-wonder-how-the-conversation-went-when)

Will heard him first, the sound of plastic rubbing together coming closer. He set his book aside and turned to look.

Hannibal stood in the bright light of the living room covered in plastic all the way down and around his feet. His head, though, was uncovered displaying a man pleased with himself.

“What do you think?”

Will covered his mouth with his hand. After a long moment where neither Hannibal’s confidence or Will’s barely repressed laughter dissipated, Will finally managed to choke out a few words. 

“You–you _squeak_ ,” His voice was strangled by an abrupt bark of laughter that snuck passed him–and then another and another until he was clutching his stomach, shaking in silence, tears pricked at his eyes. He fell to the side, curled up on the couch and unable to stop laughing. 

Through his blurry vision he managed to catch Hannibal smiling, his shoulders shaking too.


	21. Everyone Has a Thing for Will

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 1. [tumblr post](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/142607623301/ahhhh-could-you-write-a-little-something-about)

Their meeting on Will’s welfare was over. Jack placed his hands on the desk, happy for his day to be over.

“Do you have plans tonight, Doctor?” Jack wasn’t inviting himself over, though he wouldn’t mind one of Hannibal’s meals instead of going home to an empty house, his wife gone, running off somewhere with someone.

A dinner with a colleague and perhaps even a friend sounded miles better. And if Hannibal invited him, he wouldn’t be saying no.

Hannibal bowed his head slightly. “I’m afraid I’m on my way to Wolf Trap.”

Jack blinked. “Wolf Trap?” Jack repeated slowly. Surely Hannibal of all people wasn’t–Jack shook his head. Hannibal had more sense than to fall for Will Graham.

“I worry about Will during these cases you give him. I thought a homemade meal might help soothe his psyche.”

“Right,” Jack sighed. “And it’ll just be the two of you.”

Hannibal nodded, collecting his jacket and bag. “And his dogs.”

“Right,” Jack said again. “You’re on friendly terms then?”

“I would hope so,” Hannibal smiled. “I don’t bring food to just anyone.”

“Of course,” Jack stood and walked Hannibal out. “Have a nice dinner, Doctor Lecter. Give Will my regards.”

Hannibal said his goodbye and Jack wondered at just how quickly Will managed to unintentionally snare yet another admirer.


	22. Lipstick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-season 3. [tumblr post](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/141887248411/hannibal-wearing-lipstick-and-placing-kisses-all)

It was almost noon when Will finished raking the leaves outside. He was sticky with sweat and his scarf peeled off of his neck in one blissful motion. He found Hannibal in the bathroom in front of the vanity. He held a black cylindrical tube in his hand. It took Will a moment for him to remember what it was.

“You’re putting on lipstick,” Will said. He felt what Hannibal was doing needed to be formed into words for his mind to fully process it. It didn’t take as long as it used to.

Hannibal hummed ‘ _I am_ ’, relaxing his lips to evenly apply the deep red. He looked entirely focused on his task and not one stray mark was placed. He smacked his lips together in a practiced move. It was by far not the first time he had done this.

Will didn’t ask ‘ _why_ ’. He knew why and he knew Hannibal would say ‘ _why not_ ’ or ‘ _I wanted to, so I did_ ’.

“It’s a pretty color,” Will offered. Hannibal looked at him through the mirror. He smiled, preening under Will’s attention and approval. It still made Will heady how strongly Hannibal reacted to him. 

And it was a very pretty color on Hannibal. 

Hannibal capped the lipstick and set it delicately on the vanity’s counter. He turned to Will, leaning against the counter, head cocked with his hair hanging demurely over his eyes. 

He was inviting Will closer, posture open and pliant and _oh so welcoming_. He liked having Will come to him, though he didn’t seem to realize the first step had already been taken when he’d painted his lips red. Or maybe he did.

Hannibal’s hands twitched. Impatient.

 _He definitely did_.

“Do you like it, Will?”

Will moved slowly, ambling his way to stand between Hannibal’s spread legs, focused on not appearing so interested in seeing his lips up close. He cupped Hannibal’s jaw, tilted his head back to see his lips better. The slight gloss. The contrast between the white of his teeth and the pink of his tongue. Hannibal let him move his head this way and that, eyes not leaving Will’s face once.

With the pad of his thumb Will gently touched the still sticky red, pushing against Hannibal’s plump bottom lip. He was careful not to smear it. Not yet.

Hannibal’s breath was wet and hot, his eyes dilated to show a violent black. Will looked down and saw that, yes, Hannibal’s hands were gripping the counter of the vanity tightly, shaking in their effort to remain calm.

“You look amazing,” Will said. 

“Thank you.”

“Special occasion?”

Hannibal shook his head, looking at Will and attempting to not show too much. Shy suddenly. Will smiled.

He smoothed Hannibal’s hair back–soft and grey and long now–and kissed him, licking at the lipstick and spreading the taste over his tongue and onto Hannibal’s, enjoying the strong tang of it, the newness of this side of Hannibal. 

Powerful hands grabbed at his shoulders and then the back of his head and tugged at his hair, keeping him from pulling back. Strong thighs tightening around him. Hannibal wrapped himself around Will with no intention of ever letting go.

Will tapped at Hannibal’s chest, and after a few thwarted attempts to pull back and breathe, Hannibal settled down a bit. Will wanted to see the red smeared all over, the mess they made together. Except the red was still as neat as ever.

“Smudge-proof,” Hannibal panted, looking utterly pleased and proud with himself. He reached up and plucked a stray leaf out of Will’s hair. He pinched it between his fingers and set it down on the counter just as gingerly as he’d set the lipstick. 

Will couldn’t help but lean down and kiss him again.


	23. Tongue-Ring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 1. [tumblr post](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/140476470986/imagine-for-yourself-hannibal-lecter-with-a)

It wasn’t until Will’s fourth session, mid Hannibal describing the newest killer’s slash marks equating to the brush strokes of a confident painter who knew exactly what shape they were aiming for, that Will noticed it.  
  
“You have a tongue ring,” Will blurted then blushed at his blatant interruption. He was adept at being rude and still an amateur at attempting to be polite in Hannibal’s company, but this was a little too brash.  
  
Hannibal, no matter what Will said or did or thought of doing–no matter the ugliness Will displayed, took it in stride. Hardly a stray blink or a confused tilt to his ever leaning posture.  
  
“I do,” Hannibal said, patient and agreeable and as open a book as he always was, which was never very much. A few legible pages here and there before the writing turned alien and even Will could not quite decipher it.  
  
“Sorry,” Will said. Meaning it entirely. “Have you been wearing it this entire time?”  
  
“I’ve found it doesn’t impede my speech and is unnoticeable to most,” Hannibal smiled, a tilt to his lips that was entirely mischievous flirting with stomach quivering humor. “It’s also quite advantageous to have for those spontaneous rendezvous one encounters.”  
  
Hannibal didn’t wink but Will could feel the impact in his gut. He swallowed thickly. Spotted the glimmer of silver embedded in Hannibal’s tongue and did his absolute best to not imagine what one of those rendezvous entailed.

He failed, of course.  
  
“Oh,” Is all Will managed. Throat gone dry and palms sweaty. He wiped his hands discreetly on his knees  
  
“Is there a problem? I can remove it if you’d like.”  
  
“No, it’s fine. Really,” Will looked him the eyes for as long as his nerves would let him. His face was still hot. His whole body was thrumming with newfound heat. “When did you?” Will trailed off, letting the question float and sway its way over to Hannibal.  
  
“I was a young man feeling whimsical,” Hannibal said simply, leaning forward in his chair and now that Will knew where to look his gaze kept falling onto the slim glimpse of metal. “Have you never done something simply because you wanted to, despite what the consequences may be or how the world may see you afterwards?”  
  
Will tried to think of something besides what was obvious and what Hannibal wanted him to say.

Instead he thought of a young Hannibal, slimmer and more fair, delicate looking and at the top of his class at Johns Hopkins going out one night and piercing his tongue simply because he wanted to and not caring what others might think of him and what a piercing like that would imply.

It was difficult to pull himself away from the image. A pink tongue pierced quickly, Hannibal’s thin and shapely lips opening for a stranger. The sharp intake of his breath as the pain went through him quickly.

Will closed his eyes and offered the first memory he could grab onto. “I stole a watermelon once.”

It had been the hottest summer of his youth, all his shirts had been stained with sweat and it had gotten to the point where he had worn as little clothing as possible. The watermelon had been there in front of him and he’d taken it without a thought.

“And how did that make you feel?”

Will pried his eyes off of Hannibal’s lips and away from what was inside his mouth and all the implications and realities that came with it. 

“Hungry.”


	24. Therapy Cuddles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 1. [tumblr post](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/139860515781/i-will-give-you-a-crisp-high-five-for-a)

For the first time Will picks the chaise lounge instead of the chair for his session, wanting more than anything in the world to put his feet up and to give his back a bit of a break.

Another case. Another killer. Will is exhausted. 

He sets his bag on the floor and slips his jacket off, Hannibal takes it from him before his hands are fully out of their sleeves.

The chaise is clean lines and modern and possibly comfortable. The cushions might be soft. He might fall asleep and if he does Hannibal would let him while away their hour without a complaint.

Will stands there looking at the chaise and not really seeing it.

“You haven’t been sleeping,” when Hannibal says it, it isn’t a question, yet it still feels invasive. Will doesn’t say anything. He keeps his back to Hannibal, hunched shoulders and a spine that won’t be able to support his troubles soon. “When was the last time you slept?” Hannibal is persistent.

Will rubs his eyes. He can’t remember yesterday so he thinks back to last week then the week before. “Awhile.”

“The last time you’ve eaten?”

“Does a microwaved burrito from a gas station count?” Will pictures Hannibal’s minimalist scrunched face of disgust and it’s the most endearing image he’s thought of in a long time.

Hannibal doesn’t touch him but Will can feel him hovering over his shoulder. _He wants to, but he won’t_. Will doesn’t know what to do with that. He hasn’t known since they’d met. An idle attraction from Hannibal directed at him becoming something with lasting and more pointed roots growing deep into whatever it is they have.

“Why don’t you sit down?”

Will turns. Hannibal is two steps away from him, one if he really wants to stretch his legs, watching him and waiting for him to settle. 

His dogs are at home. The heater in the house is set to a comfortable seventy five degrees. They’re waiting for him and it will still be two hours before he makes it home to let them out, warm up their dinners, and take them for their nightly walk. When he finally makes it to bed, Will knows he won’t sleep. He’ll lie there awake and if he’s really lucky, which he rarely is, he won’t be thinking much at all.

His day had started last Tuesday and it seems it wouldn’t be ending tonight either.

“I’m really tired,” Will moves, his feet shuffling slowly and the two steps become a few more smaller ones. Hannibal stiffens and Will feels only a bit guilty knowing what he knows and still doing this. Dangling something he isn’t quite ready to confront or even give.

He doesn’t know what _this_ means, but he knows he wants to put his head down and close his eyes and breathe in another person who is very much alive and is, possibly and probably, a friend.

His head falls and rests on Hannibal’s shoulder, Will sighs deeply, exhausted and too long kept air is exhaled against a paisley pattern. Hannibal’s suit is soft and he doesn’t smell like any cologne, but like a man who’s had a long day at work and should have gone home an hour ago if it weren’t for Will.

“Sorry,” he doesn’t mean it but it is the polite thing one should say and he has only the minimum strength left in him to push the word out. Hannibal deserves more than that, but it’s all Will has to give. “Is this okay?”

A moment and then, “If this is what you need, of course.”

“Can you–” the words stick in his throat, but Hannibal knows what he wants because he’s Hannibal and he seems to know everything about Will and, for some reason Will can’t comprehend in this moment or any other, he can still stand to be in the same room with him.

Hannibal’s touch is tentative, his hands coming to rest lightly on his shoulders, Will sags against him and buries his nose in the hollow of Hannibal’s neck, careful to avoid his bare skin. He smells like Hannibal the most there, the joint where the collar of his shirt sits against the nape of his neck. 

Hannibal tightens his hold and his arms slide all too easily around Will’s back, pulling him closer and pushing the breath out of both of them. Will returns the touch. He couldn’t not. He clings, finger joints threatening to creak and snap with how tightly he’s holding onto Hannibal.

Between one blink and the next he’s sitting on the chaise with Hannibal next to him, cradling him and holding the back of his head protectively, playing with a stray curl. 

Will settles into the quiet between them, content to sit and be held and to hold back. His mind, for the first time in too long, is calm. 


	25. Tummy Loving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-season 3. [tumblr post](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/139669232166/if-you-would-like-a-fic-prompt-that-post-on-your)

It was after the weeks spent in Brazil and the small stint in Germany which led to a new scar on Will’s body–three inches of red along his hip and one very dead socialite–and down to the coast of Italy when Will caught the tightness of Hannibal’s shirt.   
  
He’d always worn tailored clothing, even while bed ridden and sour while his body healed and Will played amateur nurse by his bedside. Will hadn’t known how or where Hannibal always managed to get his clothes made, but he did. He also seemed to know Will’s measurements without ever having held a measuring tape up to Will.  
  
It was one of those things Will just accepted as a part of Hannibal. The ability to always be well dressed and the luck to freely run around the world doing as he pleased.  
  
Will stopped shaving, quickly rinsed his razor and set it on the counter, watching Hannibal’s reflection in the mirror.  
  
Hannibal frowned down at the slight bulge of his stomach as his shirt stretched tightly around his midriff, the buttons were straining.   
  
He’d always been a lean man. His suits gave him some added weight, but underneath Will had once been surprised to find corded muscles and a stomach that hardly belonged to a supposed mild mannered middle aged psychiatrist.   
  
The slight paunch was new.   
  
Will washed his face, dried himself with a towel and wiped off any stray droplets of water from his chest. 

He stood in front of Hannibal, moving his hands to the side with a slight push, and started unbuttoning his half buttoned shirt.  
  
“It’s all that rich food,” Will said. He trailed his fingers down the thick thatch of hair to the top his belt, hidden slightly by the new contours of his stomach. He was soft, his skin giving way to the firm pressure of Will’s hand. He pushed and pushed but Hannibal didn’t move. He didn’t quite moan, but he rumbled low enough that Will could feel him.   
  
“So it would seem,” he said lazily. 

 _A big cat waiting to be fed and petted and doted on_.   
  
“I like this,” Will smoothed his hands around Hannibal’s middle, nails digging into his soft belly, grabbing at his love handles with fondness, leaving small pink imprints. “You were all bone for a while.”  
  
“I was hardly wasting away.”

“I could see your ribs,” Will traced over them, there was now a healthy amount of muscle and fat covering the bones. Seeing Hannibal bedridden, lying on his back with his concaved stomach, the sharp points of his ribcage an awful reminder of how human he was. It was a memory barren of any sentimentality. 

Hannibal’s nose brushed against Will’s, their breaths mingling. Not kissing him. Not yet. “You were a too thin boy, weren’t you?”

Will almost rolled his eyes. “Not everything leads back to my childhood.”

“But on occasion it does.”

Will snorted. “If we’re going down this road you’ll be asking me if I wanted to sleep with my dad.”

“Did you?”

“I liked it better when we were talking about you.”

“I wasn’t the one who brought it up.”

“Yeah, well,” he groaned. Overly dramatic and wanting nothing more than to go back to bed and drag Hannibal under the covers with him. The day would wait. “I’m too tired and too horny for this right now.”

Hannibal laughed, a quick huff and Will closed his eyes. Enjoying having Hannibal so close and listening to the low rhythm of his voice and words rolling down and down. 

He dug his thumbs into Hannibal’s soft sides then scratched his way up his flanks, leaving behind pinks welts. Hannibal’s soft gasp sent a pleasant shiver through Will. 

“We’ve left behind judgment years ago,” Hannibal smiled, the lines around his eyes–bright and heated and full of _please_ and _now_ –crinkling charmingly. “And I wouldn’t be opposed to some form of roleplay.”

“That was an appalling attempt at both subtlety and manipulation. You should be ashamed,” Will pulled Hannibal close by his waist, the gentle curve of his stomach bumping and pushing against him. 

Hannibal nuzzled at his neck, arms coming to cling to his shoulders, curling himself tightly around Will. “I’ll need to go to the tailor.”

“We can get some lunch afterwards at that deli across the street,” Will said, nipping at Hannibal’s clavicle. Hannibal mumbled something, though it didn’t sound like a complete protest and it wasn’t English.

Will tried again. “I’ll let you pick out a suit for me.”

“Really?”

“Yep. And I won’t even complain that much.”


	26. Fromage Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 1. [tumblr post](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/139158091856/hannigram-7)

Tobias had had a surprisingly good handle with a knife and had managed to stab Hannibal rather deeply and succinctly in his leg. The cut, stitched and bandaged adequately by the medic, twinged in pain even as Hannibal held himself still in the car–the ride smooth, though quiet.

Hannibal could smell it in the air, beyond his own familiar iron scent leeching out of the gauze and the feverish one from Will’s own mixture of cuts and sweat and ripe adrenaline.

Apprehension radiated from Will filling the car. Fear had long since dissipated and traded in its place words that Will wanted to say, was holding back, and would in the end undoubtedly stutter out despite his flustered head.

Will stopped at the red light and the air thickened with potential. Hannibal felt the need to calm his own breathing. 

“I can’t,” Will gripped the steering wheel tightly, not looking at him. His glasses were folded and hanging from the collar of his shirt. Perhaps he felt it would be too dangerous to bridge the one foot divide between them. “You’re my first friend. Ever. Doctor Lecter, I can’t let you get hurt like that.”

His voice shook and Hannibal’s chest swelled at the idea of being Will’s _first_. He thought for a moment he should steady him with his own hand, a reassuring touch on the back of his hand to unclench those knuckles denting the plastic of his car. But once he started he feared he wouldn’t be able to ever stop. 

It was an interesting new hurdle.

“You’re not responsible, Will. I was the one who told you about Tobias and put you in such a threatening position.”

“That’s my job and you didn’t–you aren’t responsible for this shit show.”

“I am responsible for you.”

“I’m not some child.”

“No, you aren’t and it’s also not your job to be chasing killers and putting your life at risk.”

“I’m doing the right thing.”

“At too high a cost.”

Will’s lips pursed.

The light turned green and they arrived at Hannibal’s home.

Will pulled into the driveway, parking the car, going so far as to pull the keys completely out of the ignition, fiddling with Hannibal’s keychain.

“I’m scared to be alone again.”

Will looked up at him, his eyes wide and reflecting what Hannibal had thought sitting in his office chair, unwilling to accept Will’s death until he saw his body.

Hannibal placed his hand carefully on the seat divider, offering himself for Will to do as he pleased.

“You won’t be. Never.”


	27. Big and Hairy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 1. [tumblr post](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/139137026871/ohh-maybe-hannigram-and-20-things-you-said-that-i)

“I like my men big and hairy.”  
  
Hannibal finished opening the door to the lab, catching the tail end of a conversation between Will and Beverly Katz. He could easily build the dialogue in his mind: Beverly asking Will about his perpetually single personal life in an attempt to gain some camaraderie between the two of them, Will showing her to his defensive walls only for her to notice the slight crack in them, and then attack accordingly.

It would have been a very brisk back and forth, but the how didn’t matter now with Will standing rigidly, his back to Hannibal and Beverly nodding her head at Will.

 _Yes, Hannibal was behind him and yes, he had heard_. 

Hannibal smiled congenially. Beverly excused herself with all the grace of a woman who didn’t quite want to leave the room.

“So,” Will turned around, his face still red though Hannibal was sure it had been a much more brilliant all encompassing blush before Will had tried to tamp it down. “Hi, Doctor Lecter.”

“Are you well? You look a bit flushed,” Hannibal moved closer, though he didn’t push Will’s mussed hair away to place the back of his hand on Will’s forehead. He would have liked to feel the blush, but he rewarded himself instead with the up close sight of Will’s heady cheeks. 

Will stepped back, shaking his head. “I’m fine, just a little humiliated. Nothing that won’t haunt me until I die of embarrassment.”

“There’s nothing wrong with liking men, Will. Or having preferences.”

Will’s ears had gone so red, Hannibal knew if he were to ever try and recapture this moment, he’d need the deepest red pigment he could find.

“We don’t talk about this kind of–” He gestured at himself and what must have been his apparent sexuality. “–thing.”

Hannibal switched his overcoat to his other arm, looking at the wall pinned with photographs of the latest victims. Giving Will a moment to collect himself. 

“We can if you’d like.”

“There’s not much to say. You can apply ‘I’m not great with people’ to pretty much any level of sociableness I have.”

“You sell yourself short.”

“I really don’t.”

“Would you like me to ask?”

“God no,” Will stopped, rubbed his hand over his mouth. Still a bit pinkish. He looked at Hannibal then looked away quickly. “Just. Not here.”

Hannibal nodded and moved on to the subject of their latest killer. He was, as always, excited for their next conversation.


	28. Drunk Hannibal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 1. [tumblr post](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/139102463886/hi-there-id-love-to-read-a-fic-with-hannibal-and)

“It’s infuriating, really. I can’t stop thinking of you,” Hannibal said. Will looked around the empty kitchen expecting to see who the comment was directed at.

It was aimed at him, but he felt it would be better to check first.

 _It was late_ , Will tried to reason. Hannibal was still human, not the omniscient Doctor Lecter Will had created and built up in his mind. He was a man who could get drunk and, from the one very empty wine bottle and the second standing proudly on the cusp of emptiness, was _very_ drunk.

Will watched him slice an onion clean in half with one smooth stroke. He held the knife loosely in his hand. Abruptly Will felt he should take the knife away, worried Hannibal would hurt himself.

“That’s,” Will felt his tongue grow awkward in his mouth. Hannibal wouldn’t remember this, but Will would. “Nice?”

Hannibal stabbed the knife into his wooden cutting board. It stood straight up. He looked at Will hopelessly.

“I want you, do you not understand?”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be cooking right now, Doctor Lecter,” Will tried. Attempting to ease Hannibal to turning off the burners and stepping away from any knives. If there was one person Will couldn’t stand to see the blood of, it was Hannibal.

Hannibal circled the island, his feet steadier than Will had thought would be possible. He loomed over Will, pushing at him without touching him.

“You are my friend and you are in my home and it is well passed late, call me ‘Hannibal’.”

“Will you go sit down and let me get you some water if I do?”

Hannibal blinked, his eyes too watery for Will to be at all comfortable. Though Will hadn’t been truly comfortable for years. Seeing Hannibal like this, messy and untidy and undoubtedly human, was certainly disconcerting.

Will knew he would remember the desperation Hannibal was looking at him with until he was cold and blue.

“Please,” Hannibal croaked.

“Hannibal,” Will cleared his throat and tried again. “Hannibal, I want you to go sit down now.”

Hannibal nodded. He struggled to untie his apron, Will pushed his hands away and did it for him, nudging him towards the hallway where he knew the den lay somewhere.

“Thank you,” Hannibal said. Will concentrated on folding the apron and cleaning the kitchen.


	29. More Drunk Will

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 1. [tumblr post](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/139101000936/hannigram-11)

Will was on his fifth glass of whiskey and was delightfully flushed, hips swaying just a little looser as he made his way from the decanter on the bar to sit beside Hannibal at the harpsichord.

Hannibal didn’t stop playing as he watched him closely, smiling as Will smiled at him–openly and happily–the monsters haunting his mind gone for the moment.

He hoped it was his presence. Perhaps the soft music he wandered through. Though it was most likely the whiskey.

“That’s the wrong key,” Will slurred, his eyes bright and his shoulder knocking against Hannibal’s causing his fingers to miss their destination.

“Pardon?”

“You hit the wrong key,” Will said more slowly, his accent rolling heavily into a drawl. “On the piano.”

“Harpsichord,” Hannibal said under his breath. “And I’m surprised you could tell in your state.”

Will tapped the side of his head, “I may be too drunk to drive or even stand up straight without falling on my ass, but I can play a piano.”

He shifted his drink into his left hand, he began to play with his right. Clunky at first, his hand awkward as it moved into and around Hannibal’s space, but after a moment it became coherent.

Hannibal closed his eyes, losing himself to Will’s music, and began to play with his left hand, their arms crossed and brushing lightly over each other.

“Harpsichord,” Hannibal said under his breath. Will snorted beside him.


	30. Two Cannibals Go to McDonald's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-season 3. [tumblr post](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/138813518211/revolutionary-shadows-i-cant-help-but-wonder)

Will found a place to park and happily bit into his Big Mac and moaned. Hannibal sat in the passenger side of the car watching him appalled.

He rolled his window down despite how cold it was outside. The stink of it was awful.

“I can’t believe you’re willingly eating that.”

Will rolled his eyes, swallowed before saying, “You’re such a snob. This is greasy and delicious.”

He sifted through the paper bag on his lap and held up a French fry in front of Hannibal.

“Try it.”

“No.”

“Come on.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Please? For me?” Will fluttered his eyes. Hannibal grimaced. Wanting to slap his hand away and kiss him even if his mouth would taste like whatever McDonald’s considered ‘ground beef’.

It was horrible. Hannibal bit the fry from Will’s mouth, chewing it as little as he had to to swallow it quickly.

“Are you happy?”

Will grinned widely, his scars crinkling along with his bright eyes.

“That was hot.”

“Excuse me?”

Will shifted in his seat, legs widening as much as they could in the compact sedan. He held up another fry.

Hannibal cocked his eyebrow.

“You’re aroused by me eating fast food?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. But,” He pushed the fry against Hannibal’s lips. He ate it, mind ignoring the taste and focusing on Will’s flushed cheeks. “If you ate some of this burger I’m pretty sure I’d cum in my pants.”

Hannibal looked at it. Processed meat and frozen buns touched by who knows how many acne covered teenagers. He shifted to look at Will’s eager face and his obscenely tented pants.

He sighed.

“Will, you’re a cruel man.”

Will laughed and Hannibal focused on the shape of his upturned lips and the heat in his eyes.

A cruel, horrid wonderful man.

 


	31. Dog Treats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 1. [tumblr post](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/138632988876/prompt-please-please-please-can-i-have-a-ficlet)

“A mixture of pumpkin, peanut butter, flour, and oatmeal,” Hannibal said, presenting the platter of dog treats arranged in a beautiful pattern as he did with any of his other dishes aimed towards humans–with a mixture of pride and happiness to be sharing his creations.

Will stared at the little treats, meticulously shaped into perfect doggie bones. Each the same size. It looked store bought, but Will knew better.

He took the plate, a bit dazed. His dogs were watching him as he set it on the kitchen counter, tongues lolling out of their mouths, drooling over the scent of food.

“Come in,” Will motioned for Hannibal to come in, closing the door behind him, cutting off the winter chill. It was warm inside and Will hadn’t changed out of his ratty old t-shirt or his equally worn boxers despite hearing Hannibal’s car on the long dirt and gravel road leading up to his house. He felt bare and he liked that he felt bare in Hannibal’s company.

“This is too much,” He started, imagining Hannibal with his sleeves rolled up and wearing his waist high apron baking these treats just for Will’s pack of mutts. It was entirely too heart warming and nice and Will felt his face heat up. “Thank you, Dr. Lecter.”

Hannibal was kneeling on the floor, scratching Winston behind his ear, the dog’s leg hitching up as Hannibal found a good spot. 

“It’s my pleasure to cook for you and it felt only proper to make a little something for your family as well.”

Will looked out the window and down at the plate of homemade food, unable to look at Hannibal being so at ease with his dogs for too long. “Have you made dog treats before?”

“No, but I experimented with a few different batches and found these to be the most acceptable.”

“You tasted them?”

Hannibal stood up, wiping off his pants and then his hands with a handkerchief from his coat’s pocket. “Of course. I couldn’t feed your family something I hadn’t tried for myself. The taste isn’t very interesting to a human palate, it’s quite similar to a very bland cookie.”

Will blinked, the image of Hannibal baking multiple batches, tasting each one and working the recipe until he got it right just for Will’s dogs was overwhelming to his senses and his chest tightened.

He broke a piece of one off, popping it into his mouth and handing the rest to Buster, the most adamant of his dogs to be first to get a treat. Buster ran off with it, back to his bed, tail wagging happily. 

“It’s good,” Plain and simple, nothing that would upset any of the dogs stomachs. He gave one to each of them, not letting any of them feel left out. He wiped his hands on his shorts, aware Hannibal was watching and very aware of the small smile he was directing towards Will.

“Stay for dinner,” Will said, looking up at Hannibal quickly catching his eyes. The spark he found there was sharp and heated. “Please.”

“You needn’t feel obligated.”

“It’s not because you made me dog treats, really,” Will shrugged, trying to appear casual. “I want you to. It’d be nice to have some company for dinner, especially someone who can talk back and tell me if the fish is dry.”

“I would never critique your cooking so harshly,” Hannibal bowed his head, his smile never leaving his lips. “Thank you, Will.”

“Right,” Will turned away and headed towards the bathroom. “Let me put some pants on first.”


	32. Color Palette Challenge -- Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 1. [tumblr post](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/138502485136/color-palette-challenge)

The first thing Will had to remind himself of was that this was not a date. The second, this was not blood.

Will looked up at the painting, large and looming above him on the wall. Red that was deeper than the marrow of him and reached at him, prickling at his skin and plucking at every hair on his body, pulling him towards the endlessness of it. 

There was silence in each brush stroke. One on top of the other, building on top of the old to create something brighter and bolder. Will wanted to lose himself, to quiet the noise.

Hannibal caught him by the shoulder, hand large and warm and steadying, preventing him from going too close and touching it. He was washed in red from the light bouncing off the painting, his features glowing sharp and handsome. 

His eyes were so bright.

Will wondered what he himself looked like. If the red made him frail or if it uncovered the ugliness just underneath his skin, waiting to find a big enough break to worm itself out.

There had been another murder. Another moment of time Will had lost himself and woken covered in the slick slide of a dead woman’s blood. 

Now he was in a gallery with his not-psychiatrist and his not-quite-friend and his maybe-something-more.

 _A field trip_ , Hannibal had joked. Will had never gone on a field trip.

“Do you find it comforting?”

Will closed his eyes. He could still see the red from under his eyelids. He looked at Hannibal’s tie, unwilling to look any higher right then.

“It’s like being doused in pigment. I can taste it on my tongue,” Will licked his lips. There was turpentine and the sensation of thick oil. “It’s calming in a way, I can get lost in it.”

Hannibal nodded, understanding him. Always knowing what Will meant and accepting the words and the feelings without even a sideways glance. A whole life of not having this easy connection left Will unsure and delighted.

“There is an idea,” Hannibal said quietly in Will’s ear, his breath hot and too close, making Will fight to repress the tremble wanting to overtake him. “The first man was an artist, calling out to the gods in anguish and rapture, challenging them. Wanting to know more about the world and why they had been placed on earth.”

“Wanting to know more about themselves,” Will said. “Not very subtle, Doctor.”

Hannibal smiled and Will was once again endeared. 

“No,” Hannibal shifted, tightening his grip on Will’s shoulder and letting go. “But it’s a beautiful thought. A curiosity that has sustained us since our beginning pushing us forward to become something more.”

“And what ‘more’ is there for me?” 

Hannibal turned to Will, the full weight of his gaze was just as damning as it was in his office or his home. Intent and knowing and all seeing. 

“Everything,” Hannibal said. Will nodded, believing him despite himself. 


	33. Meet the In-Laws

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-season 3. [tumblr post](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/137784272601/prompt-will-meeting-hannibals-family-d)

Will had never met Molly’s parents. Her father had died and she was estranged to her mother, their engagement and wedding had gone smoothly and quickly without Will ever having to explain himself to a pair of vastly unimpressed and worried parents.

Meeting the in-laws was not something he’d expected he’d be doing being with Hannibal. But Hannibal was always intent to surprise him.

Sometimes it ended well. Sometimes Will would need recovery time.

 _This_ time, he wasn’t sure how it would end. 

Will adjusted his tie. His hair felt messy. He’d combed it twice and then had Hannibal adjust any stray hairs before they arrived, the amused tilt to his lips the entire time had been endearing and irritating. Will wished there was a mirror. He hadn’t been this nervous over his appearance since his first formal dinner at Hannibal’s house with Abigail and Lounds.

Back then he hadn’t had the safety net that was Hannibal’s fashion sense. Now, though, at his own insistence, he’d been dressed and shaved appropriately. A fugitive meeting his–he still wasn’t sure, but the passports they’re carrying say they’re married and have been for ten years, Hannibal delighted that their ‘anniversary’ was approaching’–faux-husband’s aunt and uncle.

Lady Maurasaki, short and beautiful, had looked Will up and down before leading him by the arm to the dining room, Robert Lecter and Hannibal trailing behind them.

Robert was just as handsome at 85 as he must have been at 45 or 25, an ageless sort of physical charisma that meant to attract and ease anyone in his path. Will had  no trouble seeing how Lady Murasaki’s demeanor warmed immediately as her husband talked on and on about their day and the Renoir painting he’d just purchased.

Will listened, half paying attention to what was being said, the conversation bouncing back and forth mainly between Robert and Hannibal, and half wondering if Hannibal expected him to be more talkative and the other half trying to find the genetic similarities between Hannibal and Robert without outright staring.

Robert placed his hand on Will’s wrist, bringing him back to the present and the dinner he hadn’t touched in who knows how long. Robert smiled at him, the same way Hannibal tended to smile.

“How are you liking the Gazpacho? I know it doesn’t compare to Hannibal’s cooking.”

“No, it’s good. Really–” Will realized he hadn’t even picked up his spoon during this course, too distracted by the odd image of Hannibal with blood relatives. An uncle who shared his sharp cheekbones and an aunt who held the same elegant poise that came so naturally to Hannibal.

It was eerie and looking across the table to Hannibal, the strangeness was mutual.

This was a past Hannibal had never thought he’d ever share and here Will was, sitting at the table and enjoying a meal with his aunt and uncle. It was like stepping into another world, one with egg shells lining the floors. Will was glad to be here for Hannibal.

Quickly he took a sip of the soup. “It’s delicious, thank you.”

Robert grinned, dimples sharp. He patted Will’s hand again, as if he were proud of him. He looked to Lady Murasaki, who was sipping her own soup daintily.

“What a polite boy Hannibal has found, don’t you think, dear?”

Will flushed, the word _boy_ ringing in his ear louder than it had any right to. He didn’t look at Hannibal, he’d be smiling and smug and no Will didn’t think he could take that on top of everything else.

 _Cunning boy_ , Hannibal said in his head. Voice a little rough and there was no glass between them this time. Will blushed and made eye contact firmly with his bowl.

“Yes, quite handsome as well. Smart, too, if the news was being truthful. A detective turned FBI instructor, yes?”

Her dark eyes were on him and he could only look for a moment before his gaze fell back to the table. He nodded.

“One of the best,” Hannibal cut in, proud to brag about Will. It made Will’s chest feel tight. He was being showed off. It was a foreign sensation and because he knew Hannibal was being entirely sincere, he began to fidget in his seat.

“He’s caught many killers for the FBI, the Tooth Fairy being the most recent,” Hannibal smiled warmly at Will, his hand twitching as though he wanted to reach across the table and touch his hand. “My Will has a beautiful mind.”

“Is that so?” Robert looked impressed. Lady Murasaki said a silent ‘oh’, nodding in approval. “Will, you have a talent for attracting trouble. An admirable quality for a partner of Hannibal’s.”

Will swallowed roughly. “Thanks.”

-

“That went well,” Hannibal said. He was half way through unbuttoning his shirt, preparing for sleep. They’d been given a room on the second floor with a large bed.

Robert had declared the walls had been newly insulated. Lady Murasaki had said airily that the connecting bathroom had all the _amenities_ two men might need.

Will had thought he’d melt through the marble floors, unable to feel anything in his face from how hard he was blushing. It was a polite and good natured conversation that left Will mortified and reeling.

Hannibal had been unaffected and had said goodnight for the both of them.

Will lay on the bed, having not bothered to undress, his hand picked clothes were wrinkling. Hannibal looked down at him fondly.

“And what about you?”

“I think your aunt and uncle are expecting us to have sex.”

Hannibal nodded. Once again unable to be ruffled. It was beginning to annoy Will.

“My uncle is a romantic. My aunt is simply pragmatic and a good host.”

Will stared up at the ceiling. “They’re nice.”

Hannibal sat on the bed beside him, hand tracing the buttons of Will’s shirt and down to his belt buckle. He kept his touch light, Will’s hips twitched. Will looked at him. Taking in the sight of a bare chested Hannibal with his fly undone, a dark red peeking out between his legs.

Will liked those briefs more than a lot. 

“How much did they know, before you were all over the news?”

“I’m uncertain about my uncle, but my aunt had a few thoughts and ideas that led to some truths.”

Will turned on his side, practically curling around Hannibal. 

“Not a lot, then.”

“No,” Hannibal reached down and brushed Will’s hair back, the product making it especially messy. Will sighed happily. “No one before you.”


	34. Abigail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 2. [tumblr post](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/137230115691/could-you-maybe-write-about-abigail-living-with)

The cliff house was large and beautiful with big windows allowing the sun to fill every corner of every room. It was completely different from Hannibal’s home back in Baltimore and Abigail instantly liked this house better.

“Your room,” Hannibal led her passed the kitchen, the dining room, a den, down a hallway, opening a door and presenting her her future room with a small smile. He was excited. Abigail was excited, too. 

It was large and the windows overlooked the sea, boundless water that seemed to go on and on. A display of the unending. _Maybe a sign for their future_ , she thought, though she hardly believed it. Still, it was nice to think it. 

“Do you like it?”

Abigail nodded. “It’s perfect. 

It was. A big bed. Soft colors. Rustic in some ways. It reminded her of the room she had with her parents.

“Does Will have a room?”

Hannibal cocked his head. Abigail wondered what he was thinking, she often did.

“Across the hall.”

“Are you two sharing?” It was a bold question and it was a bit uncomfortable to say, but most important questions are. It took Abigail a while to figure that out. She added quickly, for Hannibal’s sake, “Sorry.”

“He will have his own room and his own bed, next to mine.”

“I thought parents were supposed to be in the same room. You _are_ trying to make us a family, aren’t you?”

“This is unlike you, Abigail,” Hannibal stepped closer. He was always bigger than Abigail remembered, intimidating and friendly and terrifying. A weird combination Abigail struggled to find the ratio of on a daily basis. “You’re avoiding the question you want to ask. Simply ask and I’ll answer.”

Hannibal dipped his head, encouraging her.

“Hannibal,” Abigail sat heavily on her future bed. She chewed at her lip. The ocean was vast and there were no clouds. She wondered if Hannibal cleaned the windows himself. She doubted it. “Are you in love with Will?”

Hannibal blinked, his face cleared of any expression. He walked over to the window then walked back to Abigail, sitting next to her on the bed. It was as close to pacing as Abigail had ever seen from him.

“He is,” Hannibal paused, unsure of how to phrase what he wanted to say. “Haunting. I find myself unable to stop thinking of him and I don’t want to stop thinking of him. It’s an entirely new experience.”

“That’s sweet,” Abigail smiled. “I bet he thinks the same for you.”

“You do?” 

Abigail shrugged. 

“I have no idea, but I hope he does.”

Hannibal nodded, eyes unfocused. “Me too.”


	35. Besotted Will

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-season 3. [tumblr post](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/137229412566/prompt-as-much-as-besottedhannibal-is-vital-to)

The lights were on in the kitchen, Will peaked around the corner and saw Hannibal sitting at the counter with a mug between his hands.

He smiled when he saw Will. Will rubbed Hannibal’s back as he moved to sit.   
  
“Can’t sleep?” Will pulled the stool closer, sitting when he knew their thighs would touch. It was a tight squeeze. He slid his hand underneath Hannibal’s arm and wrapped his fingers around his wrist, resting his head on Hannibal’s shoulder. His skin felt chilled.  
  
Hannibal grumbled under his breath. He sounded sleepy. Will wanted to take his hand and lead him back to bed. He would, eventually.  
  
“Would you like some tea?” Hannibal said after a moment.  
  
“No, I’m okay. You’re freezing.”  
  
“Temperature doesn’t particularly effect me.”  
  
“Says the man who wouldn’t stop complaining about the lack of air conditioning over the summer.”  
  
Hannibal sniffed haughtily. “I don’t complain.”  
  
“No,” Will said, stretching the word out, a smile creeping up and overtaking him. He pressed his thumb to the palm of Hannibal’s hand, pulling him away from the mug and folding their hands together finger by finger. “You know the bed is really warm.”  
  
Hannibal turned to face him, their noses bumped. Will breathed Hannibal in, watching the way Hannibal’s eyes fluttered shut sweetly. Their lips brushed, Will kissed him. Licking at his bottom lip, the wet slide as he tongued at his lips, biting it softly. Hannibal gasped. 

Will pulled away, Hannibal was slow to open his eyes, blinking widely. 

“I don’t feel very tired now.”

“Are you complaining?” Will nipped at his ear, reveled in the small shiver that ran through Hannibal and into Will.

“Never.”  
  
“Good,” Will pecked him on the cheek. “Now, let me take you to bed.”


	36. The Nymph -- Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU where Will is a nymph who's come to life from a painting Hannibal owns. [tumblr post](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/136648546531/please-write-more-of-will-as-a-nymph-from)

_Nymphs need nature_ , Will had said. His features gaunt and his eyes only opening a small bit, before sliding shut. Too worn to leave his bed. 

Hannibal bought the little house in Wolf Trap for the lack of immediate neighbors. Three acres of land and a lake nearby provided suitable privacy for them both. Large sprawling fields having turned yellow in the fall and a thick forest for Will to rejuvenate himself, his skin had grown ashen after being kept in the city.

Hannibal kept his home in Baltimore, though he was growing more and more attached to the quaintness of the new house. The kitchen was smaller and not as well equipped as he would prefer, but the stove worked fine, the oven was consistently changing and demanding Hannibal’s absolute attention or else his food will burn, and most importantly and wonderfully surprising was that Will liked it. Will liked the simplicity of the kitchen, the house as a whole.

And Hannibal liked making Will happy. 

Standing by the window overlooking the fields to the back of the house, he watched Will turn the dead grass and plants around him green. Small flowers bloomed wherever his bare skin touched the earth.

Hannibal had no idea how Will did this or how Will found himself so many miles away from home and on top of Hannibal’s bed. It was a mystery he didn’t mind not solving, rather he enjoyed relishing in the impossibility of Will.

The timer went off. Over the course of the last few weeks, Hannibal learned Will liked sweet food, though his stomach was unused to anything complex. Hannibal adapted and served mainly vegetables and a lot of fruit. 

Hannibal had yet to feed him meat. A wood nymph like Will most likely hadn’t eaten other animals.

Hannibal pulled Will’s chair out for him. He was slighter than before, but his color had become more rosey in the few days they’ve been at Wolf Trap. Being surrounded by nature and fed every few hours brought a beautiful glow to Will.

“I like this house,” Will said. He ate his food with his fingers, pinching each cube of potato and popping it into his mouth. Hannibal would teach him about utensils someday. It was all too endearing at the moment. “It doesn’t smell like blood.”

Hannibal set his fork and knife down, dabbed at the corners of his mouth with his napkin. 

“Blood?”

Will nodded, he licked at his fingers. Sending Hannibal an exasperated look. 

“You can try and clean it up as much as you’d like, but blood stains. It’s remembered by every grain of wood,” Will paused, smiling slightly in a wince. “Also, your house reeked of death.”

Hannibal blinked. This was not how he thought this conversation would go, if he were to ever have it.

“And yet you’re still here by my side. You aren’t frightened?” 

“You won’t kill me.”

“How are you so sure?” 

Will reached across the table for another piece of bread. He smeared butter on it with his finger. 

“You haven’t hurt me yet, even though you could have,” He said, his mouth full. “And I trust my ability to overpower you if I have to.”

Hannibal smiled, teeth bared feeling his blood race through him, his heart beating wildly. Small and delicate Will with the power to bring nature back to life. Impossible Will with lethal potential. 

Hannibal bit his lip, hands shaking as he went to slice a carrot in two. _It was all too good_.

“The image is alluring,” He admitted, quietly. Throat suddenly tight and horribly dry.

“I know,” Will picked up his empty plate and held it in front of Hannibal. “Seconds?”


	37. Scar Kink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 3. [tumblr post](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/146967379186/saw-your-tag-mentioning-will-jerking-off-while)

On the twenty seventh day of their marriage, Will is relieved to discover he is not in fact impotent. But Molly is out picking Wally up from school and Will is alone in their house, flushed and locked in the upstairs bathroom. Too ashamed to do this on the bed. 

He thinks about taking a cold shower and ignoring it, but the prospect of getting off for the first time in nearly a month is too good–too promising and the shame doubles. 

Will skims his fingers along the scar of his belly. The nerves are damaged and he can’t feel much. He presses down harder, breathes shakily though his nose at the pressure. 

His erection twitches and bobs, standing rigidly in the air. Dutifully coming to the call of spontaneous arousal. 

He doesn’t know how it started. His hand had wandered to the scar and his cock had reminded him of its existence. 

The pain had been tremendous. Physical therapy had been shit and exhausting. Lounds had made sure to add a bit of humiliation in with it all too. 

The scar on his head seems to throb. He doesn’t look at himself in the mirror to check if it’s bursting open. It feels raw enough. 

The soup hadn’t tasted all that bad. There’s garlic on his tongue at the memory. Hannibal’s pursed lips. The way the tips of his fingers brushed Will’s lips as he fed him. Will’s lips tingle now. 

Hannibal had held him in the kitchen. Petted his head. Changed his clothes and bandaged him before sawing him open later on. 

He had been gentle and then. 

“Damnit.” Will says. Hushed and angry. His dick is throbbing. 

He traces the scar on his stomach with one hand, pressing hard enough to feel it and fists his cock with the other. He doesn’t take his time. 

Molly will be home soon. Wally will be here. Hannibal needs to leave before then. 

He braces himself on the vanity, jerking himself roughly and cumming into the sink and on the faucet and even on their tooth brushes. Molly’s toothbrush. He rinses both of them off and throws them in the trash. 

He catches himself then. Sees his red face and the sweat making his hair stick to his brow. The scar peaks out at him, a bit shy. 

Hannibal had carried him home and patched him up. Put him to bed. Waited for him to wake up. 

Will’s hand trembles as he brushes his hair back, somehow expecting to see red. The scar is healed and pink. 

He presses the sharp edge of his nail against it until the dull nerves finally start hurting and then he stops. He cleans up the sink and showers. Digs out new toothbrushes from under the sink. He’ll start dinner. He’ll walk the dogs. Hannibal will stay behind. Away. Just for a little while.


	38. You're Really...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-season 3. [tumblr post](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/148816989376/prompt-post-fall-will-noticing-little-physical)

It could be because they had been on this boat in close quarters for over a month. Or maybe it was just one of those things you didn’t notice for years about someone until one day you just did. And right then, Will did.

“You’re pretty.” Will said. Hannibal stiffened on his seat on the deck next to Will. Hannibal didn’t drop his book, a well used dime novel with a shirtless man on the cover Will hadn’t yet read, but he did close it slowly. 

“Have you been drinking?”

“We ran out of beer a week ago, remember?” There were two bottles of whiskey left. Will was keeping those for emergency purposes, though he wasn’t certain what the would-be  _purposes_  were exactly. They would need to stop for supplies soon. 

Hannibal didn’t look convinced.

“I’m sober, okay?” Will slumped in his chair, looking out at the ocean–pinks and  oranges dancing brightly–and back to Hannibal, who was staring. “You’re pretty. And handsome.”

Hannibal’s face turned a bit pink. “I don’t know what brought this on, but thank you.”

Will smiled and pushed his hair out of his eyes. “All right then.”

“You’re very pretty, too.” Hannibal said. He set his book on his lap. He looked at Will earnestly. It was his glaring want to please that made Will a little tipsy.

“You don’t have to–thanks.” Will reddened. 

“Bewitching, really.”

“Seriously–”

“You’re beautiful, Will.”

“That’s–” Will rubbed at his cheeks feeling the heat. “Thanks. Thank you.”

He couldn’t look at Hannibal or in his direction at all. He got up on wobbly knees and managed to make it back inside the cabin. 

He called over his shoulder. “You want some whiskey?”


	39. The Cutest Ankles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-season 3. [tumblr post](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/148819061276/omg-hannibals-got-the-cutest-ankles-they-are-so)

Hannibal laid on his bed and held his hand up to his mouth as Will finished stripping his ankle of its cast. It was two or three days short of six weeks, but Hannibal had assured Will his bones would have knitted themselves together by now. There would be no harm.

“You’re itchy, aren’t you?” Will had said before plugging the saw in.

“Unbearably.”

Will tossed the last of the yellowed cast in the trash. He went to the bathroom and wetted a hand towel, wringing out the water and grabbed a dry one on the way out. 

He sat on the foot of the bed and gently placed Hannibal’s now free foot and ankle on his lap.

It was the palest part of him, skin slightly yellow and in need of a good wash. Will rubbed Hannibal’s foot and ankle clean and then dried him. Hannibal wiggled his now pink toes and Will caught them with a few pinches of his fingers. 

As gently as he could, Will ran his nails up and down the underside of Hannibal’s foot and then up his ankle, around the jutting bones and along the tendons that stood stark in their slim home. He was so delicate in Will’s hands.

Will scratched everywhere he could, offering more pressure when Hannibal moaned. He dug his thumbs into Hannibal’s heel. Hannibal jerked.

“Sorry.” Will said. Rubbing softer this time. “You’re so skinny, nothing but bone down here.”

Hannibal leaned back against the pillows, eyes barely open and clouded with nearing sleep.

“I’ll have to pick up jogging.”

“Can I pick out the tracksuit?” Will said. He traced one of Hannibal’s veins up to his calf and smiled when he twitched. 

“Do you have a preference for color?”

“I was thinking red.” Hannibal nodded, seemingly approving. Will knew he would wear it if Will bought it for him.

Hannibal cracked one eye open, struggling to stay awake as Will kept massaging his foot. “Will you get a matching one?”

“Are we going to be  _that_  couple?”

“I would hope so.”

“Then of course.”


	40. The Devil Wears Prada AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the title suggests. [tumblr post](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/148821770131/ok-ok-hear-me-out-hannibal-the-devil-wears)

Will’s first day wasn’t going well, though he never really expected it to as no other day in his life ever really went all that well anyways.

“You’re wearing flannel.“ Chiyoh, Hannibal Lecter’s PA, said. She stared at Will’s shirt with a teetering balance of stoicism, disapproval, and disbelief. It was not very effective.

Will looked down at himself. He’d worn his only nice shirt. He’d even ironed it, something he rarely ever did.

“Yes?” Will agreed. “Is that a problem?”

“You’re interning for the  _Hannibal Lecter_.”

“I’m aware.” Will said. Chiyoh crossed her arms.

“I don’t think you are.”

Will smiled unpleasantly at her. “I think I am, but thank you for the concern.”

“You really aren’t,” Chiyoh said slowly and seemed to be close to poking Will in the chest with her tablet, “because flannel does not exist in his–”

“Chiyoh, it’s all right.” Will turned around and was startled by how close this man was and wondered how he hadn’t heard him approach. Will stumbled back, fixing his glasses so as to not catch his eye.

Chiyoh quickly backed away. “I was informing him of the dress code.”

“I heard. Hannibal Lecter.“ Hannibal held his hand out, Will shook it. The brief moment of contact informed Will of two things: he had labor-worn hands that didn’t fit into the mold one would expect from a fashion mogul and he was incredibly warm. 

Will let go quickly, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Will Graham.”

“My new intern.” Hannibal said happily. “I hope you haven’t heard any horror stories.”

“None that I cared to listen to.” Will then added for no reason in particular, “Or that seem at all realistically possible.”

Hannibal smiled and looked at him for a long moment. Will tried to stand still but began to fidget. 

“I’m glad you weren’t scared away, and I must say, Will–and I’ve never said this before in my life,” Hannibal stepped closer until Will could smell his cologne and Will fought the urge to step back. “But I have never thought of flannel as anything at all becoming until I saw it on you. Well done.”

Will blushed. He looked to Chiyoh who was staring at the two of them as if they were the strangest thing she’d ever seen.

“Thank you?” Will said, managing to push the words out somewhat coherently. 

“It is my absolute pleasure.” Hannibal motioned for Will to follow him. “Now, please step into my office. The day is very busy and I want to be able to interview you properly without getting too far behind.”

Hannibal turned and walked with a sure gait, full of confidence and purpose with the posture of a man who knew who he was and how he fit into the world. All the things Will was still grasping for. 

Helpless to do anything but follow, Will wondered what exactly he had signed up for and if Hannibal, like his classmates had said, really did stab a man with an icepick in Florence for insulting his paisley tie.


	41. An Island for You and Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part of the #ItsStillBeautiful Challenge. Post-season 3. [tumblr post](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/148912949421/for-emungere-and-mrsamgrass-for-the)

It was looking more and more like they had found themselves on a deserted island. Will hadn’t seen any other ships passing and in the last eight hours, where their boat had some engine issues and left them to drift closer and closer to said island, willing the small amount of wind to push them over, neither of them had seen a hair of any inhabitants–animal or human.

They were alone.

Which was fine. They had canned food. Medical supplies. Plenty of bottled water and a wide variety of alcohol. The engine was within Will’s capability to fix, it would just take time. 

Will was closing in on the fifth hour of tinkering with the various valves. His hands were tired. His shoulders felt bruised and sore, the stab wound in his cheek pulsing in his ears.

Hannibal had given up standing next to him hours ago after offering assistance every ten minutes and at first it had been nice of him, sweet even, but under the sun and the heat and the need to just get it done, Will had snapped and told him to go sit in the shade and drink something. One of them would need to have energy, it might as well be Hannibal, who despite recovering from a three week old gun shot, managed to be fairly spry when he should still be in bed.

Will grabbed at his shirt which he had taken off and stuffed into the pocket of his shorts and wiped the sweat from his face. The sun was beginning to set. At least they had shelter.

Will turned to call Hannibal over and interrupt what was most likely his pouting on some rock, but stopped when he saw Hannibal finish off the last swallow of one of the whiskey bottles.  _It was full_ , Will thought.  

Will cautiously ambled over to him. Wiped his greasy hands off on his shirt and stuffed it back into his pocket. Hannibal was red in the face from either the heat or the drink, dangling the bottle in a loose grip between his knees. 

“You okay?” Will said. Hannibal didn’t look up or acknowledge Will in any way. It irked him. 

Will nudged his shin with his bare foot.

Hannibal didn’t say anything, still lost in whatever room he was in. Will touched the crown of his head and lightly tugged at a few strands that were sticking up from the hours outside in the breeze and weren’t matted with sweat. 

It seemed to wake him. Hannibal reached out slowly and tugged Will nearer by the belt of his shorts until Hannibal could rest his head on Will’s stomach and wrap his arms around Will’s middle, locking him in a tight embrace.

"Hey.” Will said. He shook Hannibal’s shoulders, but he shook his head, nose digging into Will’s belly. This was the closest they’ve been in the daytime. They hadn’t touched this much since Dolarhyde. 

Will began to feel jittery, a new wave of energy pumping through him that pushed out the tired.

Will patted Hannibal’s head. He pinched his ear. Hannibal only squeezed tighter, nuzzling into Will’s middle. He mumbled something, though Will couldn’t hear him.

“The boat will be fine.” Will tried, he ran his fingers through Hannibal’s hair. He hadn’t done that since Hannibal had caught a fever those first few nights. “By tomorrow we’ll be gone. No need to be scared.” Though he knew that wasn’t it either.

Hannibal shook his head again and then looked up at Will with big watery eyes. Will began to worry.

“What’s wrong? Tell me.”

“I don’t want to leave.” Hannibal said. His accent had grown thick, slurring his words into near intangible things. Will looked around. The beach made up of fine golden sand, the water clear and healthy. It was pretty, but Will couldn’t imagine Hannibal being content to spend his days lounging on a towel and getting a tan.

“You like it here?”

Hannibal nodded. "We’re alone here. No one else.” Hannibal sniffed. It really must have been a new bottle. “Just you and me.”

“I think you’ll be bored if it’s just me.”

“That’s not true.”

“I think you’re drunk and I don’t think you know how boring I can really be.”

“Don’t be simple.” Hannibal said, reprimanding him. He buried his face back into Will’s belly, rubbing his tears into Will’s skin. “You’re the most interesting. The best.”

“You’re not supposed to mix the pain meds you’re on with alcohol.” Will said.

“I didn’t.” Hannibal paused. “You were mad at me.”

“I’m sorry.” Hannibal sniffed hard, shuddering and trying to pull Will in closer. Will rubbed the back of his shoulder hurriedly. “Don’t cry.”

“I’m not.”

“My mistake.” Will cradled the back of his head with both hands and felt the soft skin behind his ears with his thumbs. “You’ve never spent a weekend with me, have you?“

"I want to.”

“I know.” Will said. He rubbed circles behind Hannibal’s ears. Watched as a seagull flew overhead and to the other side of the island. Maybe there were people over there. "Well, I guess you already have, even if we’ve been unconscious, mostly.“ Will said. He gripped the back of Hannibal’s neck. He was red there too. Almost burning. He hadn’t sat in the shade like Will had asked. "And there’ll be more weekends.”

“I miss making you dinner.”

“Yeah?”

“And breakfast. I want to make you a real meal.”

“I guess beans and rice don’t really cut it, huh?” Hannibal groaned out something that sounded like ‘ _no_ ’. “It’s going to be dark soon. We should get back on the boat. Get some sleep.”

Hannibal grunted, but didn’t move. Will sighed and rubbed Hannibal’s neck. He looked back at the boat. Still there. Still not working. He looked down at Hannibal. His hair was so short now. He’d gone grey. Like this, head bowed and hiding, he was delicate.

“You need to drink some water.”

“I like the whiskey better. I like you better.”

Will’s face grew red. “You get cute when you’re drunk.”

Hannibal didn’t say anything to that though. He pulled at Will, lifting him until they both tipped over. Hannibal landed on his back with a soft ‘oomph’ and Will braced himself on his good arm, which really wasn’t saying much. He did his best not to knee Hannibal in his side.

Hannibal kept hold of him the whole way down and afterwards. He clung to Will’s back and nosed at Will’s throat, sniffing him.

Will sneezed and wiped the sand from his mouth. “How do I smell?”

“Sweaty. Good.” Hannibal breathed him in for a long moment. “Very good. You smell better when you’re happy.“

"Good to know.” Will said. He was blushing hard, ears practically melting off of his head. He hid his face in Hannibal’s hair. “Can we go back to the boat now?”

Hannibal didn’t let him go, only clung tighter. They still had an hour or so before sunset. it was nice here. Quiet and peaceful. Will would have to check, but he doubted there was any storm coming.

Will relaxed on top of Hannibal.

“Maybe we can stay a few days, catch some fish. Find a wild boar. You can make me dinner?”

Hannibal turned sharply until their noses bumped. Will didn’t pull back. He held his breath. Hannibal’s eyes were glassy and bright. 

“Please.”


	42. Yarn and Feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part of the #ItsStillBeautiful Challenge. Post-season 3. [tumblr post](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/148961280886/for-themadhatter-and-lunarwench-for-the)

The last time Hannibal had seen the knitting needles and yarn with Will had been in November, more than two weeks after the bluff. Hannibal had been awake for an entire four hours, lying in bed, alternating looking out the window of their cabin and looking at Will who had been in his own bed, reading a book under the light of a dim yellow lamp. 

Hannibal had managed to catch Chiyoh setting a box of yarn and needles on the table next to Will before he had slipped back into sleep. 

He had not see the knitting materials in the same room as Will since. Hannibal would wonder when Will knitted and what he made, but he was reluctant to pry. 

 _Not yet_ , he would think.  _Later_. When it wasn’t warm and Will wasn’t causing him to lose every thought he ever had by looking at him like that.

-

It was nearly two in the morning. Hannibal didn’t know why he was awake. The wood floor was cold under his bare feet, the heater of their new home–a house in the country where the neighbor was a suggestion of a few blinking lights in the distance at night–was unreliable at best causing them to sleep under mounds of thick blankets. 

The door to Will’s room was open. Hannibal peaked inside. The bed was empty, but used. He held his breath, listening to the quiet house, and heard the clacking of wood in the kitchen.

Will sat at the kitchen table knitting, socked feet perched on the chair rails beneath him and brow furrowed. Concentrating on his task as the yarn was looped again and again in his hands. 

He paused and looked up at Hannibal, offering him a tired smile, and went back to his knitting.

“What are you making?” Hannibal said, unable to curtail his curiosity. 

“I can’t tell you.”

“A secret?”

“Only a temporary one.”

And that was that. 

Hannibal made coffee for them both and sat at the table to the right of Will, watching him knit whatever it was he was knitting.

-

When they moved, which they did often and made sure to not make a pattern of themselves, they brought only a bag each. Hannibal would often see a knitting needle poking out of Will’s luggage or yarn fluff sticking to the zipper, tempting him to look inside.

Still though, Hannibal hadn’t seen what Will was making. It was one of those thoughts that drifted in, but never dwelled. The answer would come eventually when Will wanted him to know.

He would, on many occasions, press himself to Will’s closed bedroom door on nights when Will would head to bed early.

Sometimes he would hear pages of a book being turned or soft snores after forgetting to turn his light off, but sometimes there would be that familiar clack of needles working and Will softly cursing under his breath.

-

It was a pair of red socks. 

Hannibal found them on his made bed, neatly placed next to each other and laying flat, positioned with care in the center. The socks hadn’t been there when he had gone to shower.

The pair were lopsided and some of the loops were off, one was fairly bigger than the other and the other nearly twice as long. Hannibal examined them, turned them inside out and back again. He traced the small stags knitted into the ankles. They had red eyes and large branch like antlers that climbed up the ankle.

Hannibal sat on the bed and slipped them on over his still damp feet. They were snug. The wool was thick and soft though and his toes were already growing warmer. His chest felt tight.

Hannibal found Will in the den, nose buried in a book. He didn’t look up when Hannibal came to sit next to him. Hannibal folded his legs under himself, socks well within Will’s line of sight.

“I thought you weren’t speaking to me today.“ Hannibal said. A fight born from holding a conversation too soon, neither had been ready for it. Hannibal had gone to the pool to swim. Will, he’d thought, had gone for a walk.

“I’m not.” Will said. He set his book down on his lap and stared at the cover, biting his lip. “Giving you a present doesn’t mean I’m speaking to you.”

“I see.” Hannibal plucked at the toes of his sock and felt when Will had turned his eyes on him. “How long did it take you to make these?”

“A month, on and off.” Will said. 

“And you’re giving them to me today when you’ve chosen to not speak to me?”

Will grunted. He shifted on the couch, but didn’t stand to leave. “It’s not–“ He stopped himself. “I finished a week ago. I couldn’t think of a good time to give them to you.”

Hannibal pictured Will finishing them and examining the socks for holes, critiquing himself and wondering if this was the pair he would give and hiding them away at the bottom of a drawer when he heard Hannibal waking up in the bedroom beside his own.

Will huffed in the silence between them, old shyness leeching away the irritation. “I practiced for a while before I could make those.” 

“Thank you.” Hannibal wiggled his toes. 

“You like them?”

“Yes.”

“That’s good. I–“ Will started. “When we were in the cabin with Chiyoh, you would wear three pairs of socks at once.” Will said. As if he had to explain. “You were always so cold.”

Back then Hannibal had had a fever and had buried himself under blankets for what had felt like weeks. But he had always been prone to chills. He felt elated Will had noticed. 

Hannibal moved closer to Will and placed his hand on his knee with only some hesitancy. They both looked at where Hannibal was touching him. The first time he’d ever initiated contact between them. It felt monumental. 

Will, after a moment, laid his hand on top of Hannibal’s. Neither of them moved, unsure of what exactly to do next.

“I really do like these. They’re very warm.” He said.

“Yeah?” Will looked up at Hannibal, cheeks red. Embarrassment and pleasure mixing together into a pretty blush. 

Hannibal nodded, a little breathless and warmed through. “Absolutely perfect.”


	43. Heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is ABO set during season one, with omega!Will and alpha!Hannibal, who happens to be asexual. For the #StandByMe event. [tumblr post.](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/149324819716/my-fic-for-the-standbyme-event)

Will stared at Hannibal where he stood—casual and unaffected, even with the screen door still between them and what must be a plethora of pheromones seeping out of the house—on the porch, his heat obliterating any sense of modesty he had that may have at one point called to cover up.

The sheets were twisted around his ankles and Will lay bare for anyone to see. It was not an invitation, but was really his own need for fresh air and his assumption no one would be stopping by. After all, you didn’t just wander passed his house or even into Wolf Trap.

One, and then all of his dogs, clamored to the door to greet Hannibal. Happy tails wagging and nails clicking on hardwood. Hannibal waited until Will grunted, a sort of ‘come in’ that didn’t require a wave of his hand or words from a too tired head.

Hannibal said hello to the dogs first. He reached into a paper bag and threw small chunks of some sort of meat to them. Will pushed himself up on his elbows to watch Winston catch one in the air.

Hannibal set his bags on the chair near the door, then took his coat off and hung it there it too. He went into the kitchen and brought Will a tall glass of ice water with a straw circling inside and set it on the end table by the bed.

Hannibal stood looking down at Will. Now that he was closer, Will could smell him. There were those stable alpha scents that made him warm and his toes tingle and kept him calm and afloat on the sea of monstrosities and now in heat too. Will bit at his fist leaving deep teeth marks that reddened and hurt. He tilted his head back and flattened himself on the mattress. The plateau was wavering.

The dogs, after a moment, lost interest and wandered back to their own everyday lives.

Between them there should have been some shame somewhere in the room, an effort on someone’s part to get a sheet, but Will couldn’t scrape enough to make it tangible and Will had a feeling Hannibal didn’t bother indulging in shame very often if at all.

“May I sit?” Hannibal asked. Will wanted to point out he’d already made himself at home, what was a slick soaked mattress between friends? Instead he shuffled over a little on the bed. Any wet spots Hannibal would be more than capable of avoiding on his own.

For propriety and some lingering sense of hospitality, Will hid the toy he’d been using for the past day and half—a dildo with a vibrating knot—and with some shaky subtlety shoved it under his pillow.

Hannibal sat and looked as he always did, unruffled and immune to the world, hands folded in his lap. Concern for Will creasing his features.

Will wanted to reach out and bury his nose in his neck. He smelled too good. No one had ever smelled so good.

“Jack called.” Hannibal said.

Will swallowed against his dry throat. Hannibal brought the cup of water to his lips, angling the straw for him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been cared for like this, if it ever happened. Will drank and smacked his lips after.

“Of course he did.” Will pointed to his cellphone on the end table. He’d put it on silence. Occasionally he would glance at it when it lit up, but his hands had been full and talking to Jack while he fucked himself wasn’t ideal for anyone.

“Alana called as well.”

“If you’re trying to tell me something, you might want to hurry before it hits again.”

“Simply informing you people do care.”

“And yet you’re the only one who came to check in.” Will smiled up at him, all teeth and fangs and hoped it dug in. It was easier like this. Orgasms loosening him up to peel back whatever little wall they had between them. The presence of Hannibal, strong and virile, making his tongue crueler. “Have you ever had sex with an omega in heat, Doctor Lecter?”

“Once. I was a young boy in France and I was curious.”

Will attempted to picture a young Hannibal, but found he could only see the one sitting in front of him. The grey sneaking courteously in his hair. The livid veins traveling in his hands. He was a big man and Will had trouble imagining him small and vulnerable. The presence he had, Will knew, had always been there under it all.

“Did you enjoy it?”

“It was…” Hannibal searched for the word, looking as if he was remembering the entire experience just then. “Messy. A lot of clean up.”

“Never again?”

“It depends on the person. The intimacy I share with my partner is far more satisfying for me.”

Will nodded although he didn’t know that kind of intimacy, never experienced it, but he could imagine. A wave of tightness made him clench, his thighs rubbed together as his face grew hotter and hotter and the sweat percolated at the base of his spine. He rubbed at his face and then pulled at his hair, eyes sliding shut as the pounding inside grew louder and thundered through him.

“I always hate this part.” Will said, the words slurred together.

He jerked, eyes snapping open. Hannibal had laid his hand on Will’s chest, above his heart.

“Smelling an alpha, touching one, will soothe the effects of heat.” Hannibal said. “I would understand if you’d like me to leave. I brought you a few meals and some ice tea that should last you until your heat is over.”

Will’s chest tightened and he blinked away the tears crowding his eyesight.

“You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.”

“But you don’t even—“ Will touched Hannibal’s hand and then grabbed him with a firm and needy grip, holding his wrist tight until his own finger tips edged to white. The proximity and the warmth and that scent sank into him like a balm.

“I’m not being a martyr, Will. If you would like me to, I could.” Hannibal said. There was no lie. Just simple honesty. He could and he would. All Will had to do was ask.

It would be nice. Hannibal would treat him well. Give him what he needed to get through the next few days. It would be messy and a lot of clean up and when Will was sans the blur of heat he would be thoroughly embarrassed.

Will shook his head, his body throbbing and revolted against the decision.

“I’ve never had anyone with me during these.” Will admitted. Hannibal nodded. Understanding. Will would be annoyed at how at ease he was during this if he could think much beyond the yearning between his legs.

“A wall not easily climbed.”

Will laughed and then moaned. His hand twitched to grab the dildo from under his pillow. “It’s lined with barbed wire for most people.”

Hannibal’s thumb rubbed a small circle against Will. “Your heart is beating very fast.”

“Well, you’re not most people are you.”

“No, I’m not. And neither are you.”

He pulled at Hannibal’s wrist and sniffed at his hand. The savory scent of the meat had lingered on his fingers from the dog treats. Will sniffed and sniffed, breathing him in until his lungs were full of Hannibal. The throbbing between his legs, begging to be filled, settled for a moment in a thick haze, calmed by the potential and ignoring the reality.

“Will, it will hurt if you don’t.” Hannibal nodded to Will’s pillow and the thought of the thick dildo had Will’s entire body clenching. His ass entirely too empty, his body bereft of what it needed.

But Will didn’t move. He thought about Hannibal and intimacy and wondered if this was too much or if seeing Will already naked and lying in his own spend had crossed the line miles ago.

“I can leave if you’d like. Take the dogs out for a walk–”

“–Don’t.” Will tugged at his arm. Kept him in a vice grip. “Please?”

Hannibal stayed put. He reached over and brushed Will’s hair back, combing with his fingers and scratching at his scalp. A pleasant feeling and one meant to assure him that it was all right.

Will trembled as he grabbed the toy with one hand, not thinking or looking at Hannibal as much as he could, pushed it inside of himself, the squelch of his slick as he fucked the dildo with hard flicks of his wrist rang in his ears. His moans he fought to keep hold of in front of Hannibal, the last thread of dignity a clinging thing incapable of letting go entirely. He kept hold of Hannibal’s hand, who gripped him back just as tightly and when Will managed to pry his eyes open, Hannibal was looking at his face, watching him with a look Will couldn’t place.

With an awkward fumble of his fingers Will managed to inflate the knot on the toy and flick the vibrating sensation on. He tossed his head looking back to Hannibal, seeing the red in his eyes and the creases of them smiling, and bucked his hips into the air, cumming dry. Cock twitching and completely spent already.

The sensation of the toy became too much and the slick on his hand and all over the toy made it hard to turn off, but he did and the room was filled with his harsh breathing and Hannibal’s steady everything. His hands hadn’t stopped or paused petting him. Will clung to the sensation as he came down.

“Very messy.” Will said. Hannibal smiled down at him, softly. He brushed the hair out of Will’s eyes.

“Very.” Hannibal said. “Would you like something to eat?”


	44. The Guardian Angel AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guardian Angel AU, where Hannibal and Will are guardian angels whose paths cross on occasion and who have different approaches when it comes to their charges. [tumblr post](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/150096114101/guardian-angel-au-where-hannibal-and-will-are)

“Our duty,” Will started, half hearted at best. This was an admonishment he’d given Hannibal a dozen times already. Year after year. The same speech that they’d all received long ago. It was ingrained in him, but the words seemed to have become hollow and scraped clean of any real meaning. 

Hannibal, though, had all his attention squarely on Will as if what Will had to say wasn’t the same old tired thing he’d heard already. No mind to his charge dead on the ground or Will’s own charge shaking in the corner, hands smeared red. Gulping down air through her sobs. The knife slipped from her grip and dropped to the floor. 

The only sign Hannibal was aware of all this was when he lifted his wings to avoid the blood from staining the tips of his feathers. They were large for an angel and bright and shined in rebellion against the horrors still echoing around them.

Will tugged himself away and glared at the center of Hannibal’s chest.

“We’re meant to do good.” Will said, instead. Dropping the repetitive  _blessings_ and  _sacreds_. “To  _be_  good.”

“Happiness is not so simple, Will.” Hannibal stepped over Garret Jacob Hobbs. Will’s wings fluttered as he came closer. A reaction that made Hannibal smile. Will stubbornly stilled himself. “Humans crave acceptance.”

“They  _crave_  to live.”

“What is life without being understood?”

Will sputtered. He wasn’t used to being like this–flustered and heated with spice that made his tongue want to lash out, to wrangle and grab hold, but Hannibal inspired this in him more often now.  _Passion_ , Hannibal had explained once. Will had ignored him and flown away. Ashamed.

“How can you say that? You’re meant to love them, and you–you–” Will stopped and rubbed at his eyes. He looked at Abigail. At her dead mother. Her father’s eyes twitched, though his heartbeat had long since stopped. 

“I do love them.” Hannibal looked back at Garret Jacob Hobbs and then at Abigail. “He found happiness in the end. He was seen for who he was.”

“He was  _rejected_.” Will said. He bit the words out. ”Killed.”

“A risk one must take in life.” Hannibal turned to look at Will slowly. Collected as always. Not a twitch from his wings or a feather out of place. “He died being seen for who he truly was. It’s a need every creature has.”

Will shook his head. He went to Abigail and placed his hand on her head. She slumped against the wall, asleep. 

“She didn’t deserve this.” Will said. He stared at the tears clinging to her lashes. He felt them well up in his own eyes. He wiped them away with the back of his hand, aware Hannibal was watching him.

Hannibal crouched next to her, peering at her chest.  _Looking at her soul_ , Will realized and wanted to push him away. It wasn’t theirs to look at.

“She’ll live.” Hannibal smiled up at Will. It was a horribly kind smile. “Is your outburst because she almost died or because she hadn’t killed him sooner?“

Will clenched his fists. The heat blistered and bubbled inside of him.”You wound him up and let him loose.”

“I let him live the way he was meant to.” Hannibal said. He brushed Abigail’s hair behind her ear, wiping one of her tears that had fallen on her ashen cheek away with his thumb. “Shackling them would be crueler than death.”

“I can’t believe that.”

“The trouble is, Will, that you can.”

Every ounce of heat left him and a chill filled his veins with pointed ice, cutting his nerves with the sharp pain of failed evasion. He trembled and thought about flying away.  He couldn’t look at Hannibal. Or Abigail. He looked instead at the spattered blood on the walls. 

He could hear the incoming wails of the reapers. 

"You should leave." 

Hannibal didn’t move for a long moment. He carefully stepped away from Abigail and over the pool of blood. 

He turned back to Will. "Your humanity is unique for our kind, Will. Don’t be ashamed of it.” He spread his wings as much as he could in the small kitchen and then he was gone.


	45. Apéritif -- Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 1. [tumblr post.](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/141516264356/season-1-au-where-will-is-sexually-confident-and)
> 
> Season 1 AU where Will is sexually confident and knows what he wants and what he wants is something Hannibal is quite happy to give.

Hannibal’s protein scramble lay forgotten on the table, still packed away in his thermal bag and was most likely going to be eaten in the car. Perhaps Will would have both servings. From the looks of his ribs arched and stretched against his pale and now blushing skin, he needed more than just a few meals. 

Hannibal, sweating and naked, his bare back pressed against the filthy motel sheets was happy to oblige. Excited, even, for a chance to feed this man.

Will clenched his thighs tightly against Hannibal’s own, legs spread wide as he speared himself again and again on Hannibal’s rigid prick. 

He looked calm during sex, Hannibal noted as he pinched and scratched his way up to Will’s nipples–flicking them and pulling hard enough for Will to keen prettily–and back down across the quivering expanse of his stomach to the curls sitting, unkempt and musky above his leaking cock. 

“Does sex ease your anxieties?” He hardly recognized his own voice, his accent was too thick and he wondered for a moment if he was speaking in English or if Will was so focused on the slide of Hannibal inside him he hadn’t noticed. 

A moment and a gasp later, Will leaning forward finding the angle that best suited him, hips bucking fast he managed to respond. 

“Among other things.” He ground out, teeth bared and bestial. His ass and thighs and knees clamping down hard to make Hannibal stutter in the slow controlled roll of his own hips.

Hannibal held himself still, enraptured by the rhythmic clench of Will’s ass and how his eyes settled on Hannibal holding him in his grip. Breathing in the scent they were creating together–a heavy musk that clung to them–filled Hannibal with a new sense of need. It was a novelty. An urge burning inside of him and he was discovering he could not entirely extinguish it nor did he want to.

Hannibal could bare it no more. He reached up and grabbed Will by his hair and tugged, pulling until Will’s throat was a long line of tendons, stretched and made vulnerable by his own hand and kept at the rough pressure until Will was spilling between them, mouth open and saliva dripping down his chin. Will grabbed at Hannibal’s hand but didn’t tear him away, rather he held him there until the tautness of his body broke and he slumped, sated and pliant on top of Hannibal.

Hannibal briefly rubbed Will’s head, soothing where he had gripped him and then lifted Will by his hips and pulled out. He was still hard and the idea of finishing inside Will like this nearly set him off, but this wasn’t for him. 

Will tsk’ed at him. “Let me.”

Hannibal watched, mind curiously blank of all things that weren’t the way Will pulled the condom off of Hannibal, throwing it near the trash can, and without pausing for breath opened his mouth and pulled Hannibal inside with a harsh and lovely suck.

It was quick and sloppy, the wet sounds of his mouth were nearly as obscene as when Will had been riding him. Will rolled his balls in one hand, bracing himself on Hannibal’s thigh with the other. 

Will swallowed him down and Hannibal did not hold his head, but reached for his shoulder, digging his fingers into his meat and grabbed ahold of the sheets as he came hard and with bright lights behind his eyes. 

Will pulled off wiping his mouth with the pad of his thumb licking up whatever stray cum he found. The disheveled look he’d worn since Hannibal had knocked on his door had gained a new sense of lightness he hadn’t had before.

Hannibal wanted to kiss him. He found the sensation of tenderness he was feeling towards Will odd.

For a moment they looked at each other, the room stilled and it was quiet and there was only them. Hannibal thought of pulling Will to his chest. What his reaction would be to such a display.

Will shifted and went and picked up the condom and threw it away. He grabbed the bottle of lubricant and tossed it in his open suitcase. “I bought these not thinking I’d actually get to use them.” 

“But hoping you would.”

“There are times even I find myself being an optimist,” Will smiled shyly, sweat slicked and red welts along his front. 

 _He’s beautiful_ , Hannibal thought,  _he’s surprising_. 

Possibilities curled pleasantly inside of him.

-

Hannibal pulled on his coat, patting at his hair the best he could.

“Would you have done this with Jack had he come instead?” 

Will shook his head, still flushed and sticky despite a quick wipe down with a damp towel. Hannibal thought about proposing a shower. “He’s married. And I don’t think he wants to have sex with me. Use me, sure, but not like this,” Will gestured to the bed, an odd mixture of timid and brass.

Hannibal found it too endearing.

He picked up his thermal bag and opened the door. “I’ll drive while you eat. I made protein scramble.”

Will checked the gun holstered to his hip. “Sounds delicious.”


	46. Apéritif -- Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 1. [tumblr post.](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/143591982356/for-some-reason-ive-been-picturing-this-taking)

The room was warm, the heater turned up high and there was blood everywhere. It was sticky in places and the further in it became wet with pulp. The killer had been enthusiastic, happy to stab and pull and spread the victim over the walls and into the grain of the floor and even the popcorn ceiling.

It was bestial only in its attack. Everything else screamed the cruelty of a human.

 _Wasteful_ , Garret Jacob Hobbs said in his ear and Will agreed.

Will stared at the mess–hardly a corpse at this point and ‘victim’ was said only for propriety’s sake, so disfigured that what was left of the bones were the only tellings this had been human and not an animal.

No shoes. No clothes. No wallet left behind. Just an empty apartment that was for rent.

The windows were propped open after the photographers had gone over the room. It was stale and stunk so strongly Will had taken the mask that was offered to him and had slipped it on. He could work better without the scent distracting him.

Two policeman had been outside looking pale and sick when Will had arrived. The stench of vomit would have been his first clue had Will not been warned by Beverly beforehand.

“It’s bad,” she had said. Her usual enthusiasm for the crime scene absent and replaced with sullen determination. He wondered what her gauge for  _bad_  was, exactly.

Jack had apparently wondered the same thing. 

Hannibal walked into the room, his footsteps slightly muffled by the plastic foot covers. He was wearing a mask as well. 

Will was struck with the image of him in matching blue scrubs and gloves, the metallic smell and heated remains replaced with the antiseptic scent of a hospital. He would be a little younger, less grey in his hair.

If they had met earlier when Will was still a detective and Hannibal was a surgeon, Will would have fucked him in one of the hospital supply closets. There was no doubt it would not be a new experience for Hannibal, but Will had his own fantasies and they were growing by the day.

He blinked and his feet were sticking to the hardwood, his own foot covers stained pink. Hannibal walked over to stand next to him. There were dozens of people in the room, trying to figure out what the hell to do with this. 

“I couldn’t see much,” Will told Hannibal, leaning in to whisper it. No one was paying attention anyways. Jack was in the hallway, on the phone. It was almost private being in the middle of it all. Will felt like he and Hannibal were in a bubble. 

He wanted to be close. He stuffed his hands into his pockets so he wouldn’t touch. Hannibal was holding his overcoat, too hot to wear in here.

The look in his eyes said something else.

Hannibal cocked his head. “You couldn’t feel this killer?”

“That’s not it. I felt gleeful when I did this,” Will almost smiled, he managed to smother it but he knew Hannibal had seen. “I can see it in the smears and the splatters of the body, but that’s it.”

Hannibal looked around the room, as if noticing for the first time what had happened. “It’s illegible to you.”

Will nodded. He couldn’t read what this killer was writing, only that it was happy and filled with an egregious amount of exclamation marks. 

“Did Jack call you?”

“He was worried of overstimulating you and felt I would be needed.”

Will groaned, embarrassed. “I’m not a child.”

“No one said you were,” Hannibal tried to mollify him, it worked. It seemed like a natural skill for him–the power to calm or light a spark. Will was almost disappointed Hannibal didn’t try for the latter. “Should we get some air? I’d like to get this mask off, it smells almost as bad as the room.”

His eyes crinkled, he was smiling. Somehow it was easier to read him when only one part of his enigmatic face was showing.

Jack put his cellphone into his jacket not looking particularly pleased. He nodded to Hannibal.

“Any luck?” Jack said looking between them. Will shook his head. Nothing more than he’d already gleaned from the first minute he’d been inside, alone, without the buzz of the FBI’s CSI crew. 

“What about you, Doctor Lecter?”

Hannibal looked around the room, not quite hesitating but as if he were deciding if he wanted to share. His reaction gave Will some pause, but he swept it away. It was a gruesome crime scene, after all.

“There’s nothing I can say that Will has not already said. I’m sorry, Jack.”

Jack waved him off. Clearly disappointed, but determined to move on. “It’s fine.” Jack sighed heavily. “Let me walk you out, I can’t imagine you want to stay in this room anymore than I do.” He stopped and turned his full and heavy gaze to Will. “You heading out too?”

“Yeah, Doctor Lecter is giving me a ride back.” Will said, volunteering Hannibal without asking. He was sure Hannibal would offer anyways.

Jack led the way out, big shoulders slumped somewhat. Will wished he could have been more helpful. 

Hannibal pulled out his keys and then promptly dropped them. A show of clumsiness that Will would have believed had he never spent more than a minute with Hannibal. It was smooth and practiced, those dexterous hands would never drop anything accidentally. 

He looked to Will, demurely. “Would you mind, I’m feeling a bit stiff.”

The word  _stiff_  rang importantly in his ear causing Will to stutter in his movements.

Will picked the keys up and gave them back. Their fingers brushed and Will leaned in just that little bit to say quietly into his ear, “Are you–?” He didn’t finish, his voice was strangled as his throat closed itself, disbelief and arousal coiled together hot in his belly.

Hannibal nodded, meeting his eyes before pulling back and following Jack out the door, his hips swaying slightly more flamboyantly than Will had ever seen and Will felt the air leave him in one breath he hadn’t realized he’d taken. 

It took Will only a second to collect himself and three hurried steps to catch up–Hannibal having undoubtedly slowed down his own pace for him. He looked around making sure everyone was too busy to notice and swiftly swept his hand along the cleft of Hannibal’s ass, feeling the end of the hard glass plug he’d bought a week ago.

Violet and delicate in his hand, Will had given it to Hannibal red faced but confident that Hannibal would wear it for him. When exactly, he didn’t know. He had wanted Hannibal to decide.

Will gasped and quickly retracted his hand before he was caught. Hannibal slipped his mask off to smirk at Will, preening at Will’s surprise. 

Will waited until they were blocked from view by Hannibal’s car before he slid his hand back between Hannibal’s legs, letting his fingers push at the sold base of the plug. Hannibal’s eyes fluttered closed, Will could feel the heat of him against his palm and wanted nothing more than to sink to his knees and kiss him.

“How does it feel?”

Hannibal lolled his head side to side, a move Will had seen many times in far less professional environments, but Hannibal made it look like he was working a kink out of his ‘sore’ neck. 

“Good,” Hannibal said slowly, letting his accent wrap the word up in rich silk. “And yet it feels like I’m being put on hold for something much better.” Hannibal smiled again, a wicked kind of look that had Will’s knees wobbling. “Bigger, even.”

Will closed his eyes. “Fuck.” And tried to remember he had to walk around the car and get in, he couldn’t simply sit on Hannibal’s lap no matter how much he wanted to. He adjusted himself, Hannibal’s eyes followed the grip of his hand and he was more than a little tempted to just start jerking off right there.

He really was fucked. 

Will gave Hannibal’s ass one last squeeze and look before letting go and putting space between them. It was difficult and he wanted to hate that it was difficult, but couldn’t. 

They got in the car, the walk interminable. He waved goodbye to Beverly when she waved to him and got into to the car. He grabbed at Hannibal’s thigh, hand moving to cup him before he even put his seatbelt on. Hannibal’s legs opened for him, he was hard.

“Do you really not mind if we stop at Quantico first?” The drive would take over an hour. Will wanted to watch Hannibal twitch. He hoped for a bumpy rode. “I have to pick up a few things. Can you wait that long?”

Hannibal looked at him as if he had said something funny. “I’ve been wearing this since this morning,” He pointed to Will’s watch. “Five hours.”

Will shivered, picturing a just-woken-up Hannibal slicking himself open in bed just for Will and with that image he wanted to tear open Hannibal’s pants, bend him over and see that violet circle nestled between his cheeks. 

 _Just for him_.

He shook his head, trying to stay in the moment. He squeezed Hannibal again. “I–I know a deserted supply closet we could use.”

“Sounds lovely,” Hannibal said and started the ignition. 


	47. Bodyguard AU -- Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU where Will is Hannibal's FBI assigned bodyguard after Hannibal survive's a serial killer's attack. [tumblr post.](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/138166523401/i-hope-you-realize-that-you-h-a-v-e-to-write-at)

Will loses Hannibal in the cheese aisle. He spends the next five minutes trying to not appear frantic as he frantically checks each aisle, only barely containing his urge to shout Hannibal’s name and bring attention to himself and what should have been the very easy assignment of taking Hannibal to the store without him being abducted or killed.  
  
The panic is just starting to become overwhelming, his hand only a moment from grasping his gun in his jacket, when he spots Hannibal on the opposite side of the store examining two jars of olives.  
  
Will wants to kill him. The relief thankfully keeps him from doing just that.  
  
He grabs Hannibal’s arm and marches him to the register.  
  
“We’re leaving,” Will says.   
  
“Why are you so upset? Did something happen?” It’s how Hannibal says it, oblivious and not. He knows and he’s acting like he doesn’t.

Will steers him to the vast aisle full of olive oils, vacant of any other customers. 

He pushes himself into Hannibal’s space and looks him in the eye. His face is hot in anger.

“You did that on purpose.”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“You’re lying,” Will is gnashing his teeth. This shouldn’t be this difficult and he shouldn’t be this panicked or this worried or this anything over a simple assignment but he is and his heart is about to fly out of his goddamn chest.

Hannibal looks at him, eyes wide and something seems to click for him.

“I’m sorry, Will,” Hannibal says. Sincere. Three genuine words that take the breath out of Will. “I was curious and I caused you distress. I apologize.”

“Curious?” Will repeats the word, it tastes odd in his mouth. “You wanted to see me upset? No.”

Will shakes his head, he steps back. A laugh builds up in his throat and he thinks,  _this job is going to kill me. Hannibal is going to kill me_.

“No,” Will rubs his face and his eyes, bone tired. “You wanted to see if I would get upset.”

Hannibal doesn’t look him in the eye this time. This might be a first for him. For Will, too.

Will sighs. He pulls Hannibal in and pushes him towards the register. “Come on, Doctor. Let’s go home before you give me another heart attack.”


	48. Bodyguard AU -- Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr post.](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/139057954991/for-damnslippyplanet-who-has-skillfully-learned)

It is a little passed three in the morning, there are two police cruisers flashing their lights most likely disturbing all of Hannibal’s neighbors, and Will has spent the better part of the last five minutes not looking directly at Hannibal and fiddling with his phone, preparing to wake Jack on a lead. 

Hannibal’s chest hair is thick. Will bites his lip.

This is not the first time he has seen Hannibal out of his suits, but it is the first time Will has seen him shirtless. He thinks about telling Hannibal to get dressed, but the man seems disinclined to move from Will’s side, sleepy and unabashed. 

Hannibal doesn’t care, so Will tries to follow and copy his innate confidence that spills so easily from him. It’s annoyingly difficult. He looks to the side of Hannibal’s face at the antlers mounted on the far wall. 

“We found him digging through your trash cans,” Specifically Will had heard someone unlock the creaky side gate of Hannibal’s house and someone then knocking over a ceramic pot. He’d been quick to run out the side door and grab the man and subdue him, pushing him to the ground with more force than he needed and cuffing him before Zeller even made it to the driveway.

Hannibal had made his way outside to look, woken by the commotion. Will had shooed him inside with a wave of his hand.

The adrenaline is still rushing through Will. He’s covered in sweat, making his hair stick uncomfortably to the back of his neck. 

Will peels back the curtains just enough for Hannibal to peer out the window and see the back seat of the cruiser parked across the street. Zeller is leaning against the car door waiting for Will’s signal.

Hannibal spends a moment looking, before he sighs and his entire demeanor slumps.

“I’m afraid that isn’t the man who abducted me.  _That_  is Franklyn Froideveaux, one of my patients.”  
  
Franklyn is crying, his cheeks puffy and the scrape along the side of his face–a result from Will pushing him against the stone walkway outside–is a bright red under the abysmal car light. Will wishes Zeller would hand the man a tissue.  
  
“He’s obsessed with you,” Will says. Franklyn isn’t the killer, but he’s infatuated. Will dislikes him immediately. He can feel when Hannibal’s attention shifts and moves onto him.

Hannibal studies him. Will closes the curtain and looks again towards the antlers. Embarrassed of himself and what’s inside of him.  
  
“He’s a lonely man who wants to be my friend.”  
  
"And is he?”  
  
Hannibal shakes his head. “No. Simply a patient.”  
  
“Might want to think about referring him,” Will bites out as if Hannibal hasn’t already thought of this. He takes his glasses off, pinches the bridge of his nose. He looks up at Hannibal, finally allowing himself to catch his eye. They’re both tired it seems. “Sorry for the false alarm, you should go back to bed.”

“I doubt I’ll be able to sleep. Besides, it isn’t too far off from when I normally wake up,” Hannibal smiles at him, patient and cordial and nice as ever. His hair falls in front of his eyes. He looks delicate. 

Will wonders what he would look like angry, what the color of the rage inside of Hannibal would burn. If it even exists.

Will tightens his hold on his phone and shoves his other hand inside his pocket, stopping himself from doing something idiotic.

“I should go tell Zeller about Franklyn. Then call Jack,” Will turns to go to the foyer, leaving Hannibal to go about his routine–shower, coffee, making some variety of an amazing breakfast that he’ll insist on sharing with Will before Katz and Price begin their shifts. Hannibal’s hand lands heavy on his shoulder, turning him around.

His hand is big and digs into Will’s bones. Hannibal ducks his head until he has to look at him.

“You’ll find him, Will,” Hannibal says quietly. His thumb rubs circles into his clavicle. “Did you truly think he was the killer?”

Franklyn had been a terrified mess who hadn’t tried to fight back. The killer wouldn’t have even blinked before attacking.

“No, but I was hoping I was wrong,” Will says after a moment. “You deserve to have a normal life away from all this shit.”

Hannibal laughs, the sound jarring and pleasant. Will’s face warms. “Normal is subjective and often boring. I’m quite pleased to have met you and have you in my world.”

 _Me too_ , Will thinks. He keeps his mouth shut tight and nods instead. 

 


	49. Stripper AU -- Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU. Alana takes Hannibal to a strip club where he meets Will. [tumblr post.](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/136277413201/hannigram-au-where-hannibal-goes-in-a-strip-club)

Hannibal saw him first, but it was Alana who, after consuming an entire tray of shots by herself with great enthusiasm, said, “He can’t possibly be legal.”

Young, lean, and a head of curls which trailed and bounced over his bare shoulders and hung delicately in front of his face in the most attractive manner he had seen outside of a painting. Hannibal found it impossible to not look at this boy, who was most likely just skirting passed the age of eighteen. 

Stunning. Beautiful. Sublime made into flesh.

Always too perceptive than what is good for her, Alana stumbled out of her chair, cheeks flushed with determination and vodka. She made her way across the room and to the boy, pointed to Hannibal. Grinned widely and slapped a few bills into his hand. 

“For my dear mentor,” Alana said. She clapped Hannibal on the shoulders and whispered into his ear. “Have fun.”

The boy walked over with a hypnotic sway to his hips which Hannibal was not as immune to as he would have wanted. It was both all too natural a walk while also the design of a man who knows what another man like Hannibal wants to do to him. Which was a list growing with every step he took.

“I’m Will,” Will said. He climbed onto Hannibal’s lap, legs shaved smooth, firm and muscular as he found his bearings around Hannibal’s thighs. The small shorts he was wearing did very little to hide his bulge and rode impossibly up as he settled. “Your friend bought me for you, Hannibal.”

“Did she?” Hannibal said. Mindful not to touch, though he wanted to badly. He was becoming more fond of the idea of delayed gratification quite a bit. “And what did she buy exactly?

“A dance,” Will rubbed his hands along Hannibal’s chest, his tie going askew. Will reached up and undid it, letting the silk trail between his fingers. He shoved it into Hannibal’s inner jacket pocket. Will started on his shirt buttons, easing them out of his shirt one by one, slowly. “And to make you a bit messy.”

“What a terrible girl she is.”

“Can’t say I blame her. You look better like this, not as untouchable.”

Will smelled like other men, musk, and the faint traces of an unpleasant cologne. Bathing him moved to the top of the list of things Hannibal planned on doing to him.

He would bring him home, scrub him clean until his skin was a soft malleable pink in the shower, and then he would fill the bath and let Will soak in the tub while Hannibal massaged every part of his body he could reach. All too curious to see how much of himself Will shaved.

Will ground his hips and ass against Hannibal’s lap, his thighs flexing hard against Hannibal’s. His belly clenched and rolled with the rhythm of the loud music. Hannibal yearned to dig his fingers into that vulnerable flesh and to watch how white his skin would go under his grip, how dark his bruises would bloom afterwards.

“Do the men and women you dance for often tell you they want to take you home?”

“Are you about to ask me something, Hannibal?” Will purred his name, let every consonant and vowel roll off his tongue in a filthy guttural grind released into Hannibal’s ear. Hot breath caressing him down to the curl of Hannibal’s toes. If he were not himself, Hannibal would have melted into a pleased puddle in his chair for Will to do what he wanted. 

It was a close call.

Will looked down at him, surprised to see the clarity in Hannibal’s eyes. Hannibal liked surprising Will.

“I would take you home with me, if I could,” Hannibal said lightly, his urge to touch Will became unbearable. “Spoil you horribly. Feed you rich food until you were soft and supple for me, but I know that  isn’t what you would want.”

Will’s dancing had slowly tapered until he sat still in Hannibal’s lap with his arms resting on Hannibal’s shoulders, considering Hannibal’s words.

“I’m not exactly the type to be spoiled by random men.”

“Though you’ve had many chances, I’m sure.”

“People tend to want a fantasy for a night and not the reality in the morning.”

“People can be quite short-sighted.”

“I think ‘horny’ might be a better way to phrase that.”

Hannibal smiled, fingers clenching tightly to the metal on the bottom of his chair. The song ended, changing to something with a quicker beat. Will pushed his hair from his eyes.

“Our dance is over.”

“And my heart breaks.”

Will shook his head, struggling not to smile. A wonderful victory. “You’re a weird guy, you know that?”

“Intimately.”


	50. Stripper AU -- Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr post.](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/137230995811/hi-any-chance-of-a-follow-up-to-the-belly-dancing)

Before today, Will had known three things about Hannibal from his frequent visits to the  _Red Dragon_. 

One, Hannibal was extremely wealthy. He overpaid for every single one of Will’s dances, which would have been a turn off for Will if Hannibal wasn’t also the most genuinely polite man Will had ever met, in and out of the club.

Two, Hannibal had good taste. It wasn’t just his clothes or the fact that he refused to eat any of the food from the bar, it was the way he handled Will, never actually putting his hands on him. Always being the gentleman and never doing anything distasteful. 

Three, Hannibal  _liked_  him. This was something Will could see in his eyes and feel clearly in the rigid line of his cock as Will sat on his lap. Always focused on what Will was saying more than the way his body moved over and on Hannibal’s. It was the balance of being extremely predictable and odd enough for Will’s attention to be caught and kept by Hannibal. 

And today, Will learned number four on his list of Hannibal Facts: He was a teacher and he was  _Will’s_  teacher.

Sitting in the back row of the auditorium, Will spent his first class of the semester hardly listening to a word Hannibal said, his notebook blank. He hadn’t even attempted to take notes. Petrified Hannibal would notice him and call attention to him. Angry that Hannibal did not notice him, he didn’t pause once, nor did he stumble over his words as his eyes scanned the packed room and over Will’s row. 

Will was just another student to Hannibal. It should have been a relief, but it made his chest clench tightly, his hands curling into fists until his knuckles burned white. 

Will had danced for Hannibal more times than he could count. He had felt the man’s dick between his ass. Hannibal had treated him kindly and respectfully. He had whispered in Will’s ears, telling him how lovely he was. Will was not a  _nobody_. 

But Hannibal did not make eye contact with him once. 

The lecture ended. Will swallowed, gathering every bit of his courage and nerve and compacting it into determination to walk down the auditorium stairs and greet Hannibal. The idea of being ignored, of him brushing Will off and pretending Will didn’t exist or that all those nights were nothing riled Will and pushed him down every step and to look Hannibal in the eye.  
  
“Dr. Lecter,” Will said, his jaw clenched and Hannibal’s name felt like rocks being slammed together, sparks flying. Hannibal, for the first time, looked back at Will and it wasn’t apathy or the look of distaste. It was delight. Pure and washed in happiness. Hannibal’s smile was small, but it felt like he was beaming.  
  
Will flushed, the anger at the possibility of being ignored evaporated. He was left with sweaty palms and a hot face. Will cleared his throat.  
  
“Will,” Hannibal breathed. 

Despite his tone, intimate and enamored, they weren’t alone. 

He noticed Will eyeing the other students milling around, waiting their turn for Hannibal’s attention. It was rare to see so many students waiting after a lecture for a morning class. Most wanted to go home and back to bed. Will usually did.  
  
Hannibal seemed to like breaking the norm.  
  
“Why don’t we continue this conversation in my office,” Hannibal picked his bag up, and waved for Will to follow him. He made quick work of excusing himself. 

Hannibal’s office was a short walk to the building next door. Will struggled to find something to say. Irritatingly his nerves returned. The silence between them though was amiable, wholly because of Hannibal.  
  
Hannibal closed the door behind Will. He opened the window, letting the stuffy air out.  
  
Will skimmed the titles on the bookcases, oddly unwilling to look at Hannibal directly now that they were alone.  
  
“This is the first time we’ve been alone, isn’t it?” Hannibal sat on the edge of his desk. Will picked one of the books at random, flipping through the pages. He couldn’t read any of the words. It wasn’t in English. “Are you nervous, Will?”  
  
“Just not great at small talk.”  
  
“I don’t think there’s anything small about you.”  
  
Will coughed, blushing all over again. His ears felt like they were about to melt off. Hannibal had never said anything so crude to him, not like that. He’d had men and women shout over the music, their dreams of sucking him off, wanting him to follow them back to their cars. Trying to flatter and only making Will roll his eyes and hope for the song to be over. 

This, though, felt different. Like Hannibal was slipping from one role to another and wanting Will to follow and keep up with him. 

“I think that might have been the sleaziest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”  
  
Hannibal grinned. “It was meant to be complimentary.”  
  
Will closed the book in his hands with a loud thud. He took his time finding its proper place in the shelf.  
  
“So, you’re a teacher.”  
  
“A guest lecturer,” Hannibal sounded amused. He always sounded amused. It was only now beginning to irritate Will. “And you’re a student.”  
  
“Well, yeah. I’m not dancing just for the cardio,” Will rubbed at the back of his neck, finding the tips of Hannibal’s leather shoes remarkably fascinating.  
  
“It would be fine if you were.”  
  
“I know,” Will said sharply, then sighed. “Shit. Sorry, I’m just surprised to see you. Outside. In the daytime. It’s weird.”  
  
“There’s no need for apologies. Have you never run into one of your patrons before today?” Will shook his head. Hannibal stood from his desk, straightening invisible wrinkles from his slacks. He looked at Will, ducking his head, trying to catch his eyes. “I do hope it’s not a bad weird?”  
  
“No, not bad,” Will adjusted his backpack. Clinging to the safety of the plastic strap. “I’m a first year criminology student.”

“And what are your plans for the future?”

“I’d like to work for the FBI.”

Hannibal nodded, approving of Will’s choice of career. Will was unsure if he liked liking the feeling of Hannibal approving of him so quickly. People never  _approved_  of Will. 

“A noble goal.”

“How can you act so normal?” Will said, exasperated and tired, the anger from before bubbling back up. “We’ve practically had sex and now you’re my  _teacher_.”

“Is dancing equivalent to sex for you?”

“Don’t psychoanalyze me.”

Hannibal held his hands up, hoping to soothe Will. Horribly, it worked.

“I would apologize, but I fear it would lose its meaning all too soon. We didn’t have sex, Will. I’m your client, that’s all.” Hannibal spread his hands wide before dropping them to his sides. He smiled sadly to himself, Will wanted to move closer. His feet refused. “I haven’t even touched you.”

“You sound disappointed.”

“I won’t lie and say I haven’t thought about it or that I find the prospect unappealing,” Hannibal moved closer, his steps sure. He was so certain, in everything he seemed to know what he wanted. Will wondered how he fit into any of Hannibal’s world and why he seemed intent on infiltrating his own. Why Will’s heart thudded in his chest so hard he was afraid he’d burst.

“What about you?”

Will avoided the question. “Is it–is this okay? With the school, I mean.”

“While it  _is_  looked down upon for a student and their teacher to engage in a relationship, it’s nothing one can be fired for or lose a scholarship over.”

Will flushed, it was odd to be read so easily. “Oh.”

Hannibal clapped his hands together, picking his bag back up and walking to the door. 

“We are getting ahead of ourselves, I think. Did you have breakfast, Will?” He paused, hand on the doorknob. Waiting. 

“No, I haven’t eaten since–” Will stopped himself. 

Hannibal looked at him sternly. “We must fix this before it becomes a habit. I’ve made enough lunch for two and it’s beautiful out today.”

“I couldn’t, Dr. Lecter–”

“I think ‘ _Hannibal_ ’ would be more appropriate, don’t you, Will?”


	51. Hannictober -- Ghost(busters)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 1 AU where the FBI is in the ghostbusting business. [tumblr post](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/151222376041/hannictober-day-1-ghostbusters-you-didnt)

“You didn’t have any right to go into my house, Jack.” Will said. He glared at Jack and then at the containment unit sitting between them on the desk. It was still steaming, freshly filled. It would be hot to the touch and why Will had his gloves shoved in his jacket pocket, ready to be pulled on and make a run for it.

Though he would grab it bare handed if he had to.

Jack sighed. He pinched the bridge of his nose and looked up at Will with an unpleasant mixture of pity and frustration and the need to get Will out of his office.

“This is unhealthy.”

“You’re not my doctor.”

“And neither is  _it_.” Jack said pointedly and then to further emphasis and seemingly prove his rightness, he pointed at the containment unit. Will stiffened, his face going hot.

“ _Hannibal_ ,” Will spoke slowly, tamping down his temper. Civility was key. He was fine and he would show just how fine he was. “—Is not bothering or hurting or scarring or causing a—a problem at all for anyone and especially not me.”

“It’s a ghost.”

“ _He’s_  my friend.”

“Ghosts aren’t friends, Will. We don’t know what they are, but they aren’t your friend.”

“He is.” Will said. His voice shook. The containment unit twitched, as if Hannibal could hear him.

Jack looked at him sadly. He sighed and rubbed the back of his head, leaving the silence between them to calm.

“This isn’t going to end well. You know that, don’t you?”

“It was never going to for me, Jack.”  _Hannibal gave me hope it would, though_. Will smiled. It didn’t hurt as much as it used to.

“I’m going to lose sleep over you when you say things like that.” Jack said. He stood up, buttoned his jacket, and walked to the door. He paused, but didn’t turn to look at Will. “If I get one complaint. One word about  _him_ , he’s gone. You got that?”

Will held his breath, happiness fluttered unexpectantly in his chest.

“Thanks.”

Jack shook his head. “I didn’t do anything. Just went to lunch and forgot to lock my door.”

Jack left. Will quickly pulled his gloves on and picked up the containment unit, holding it–Hannibal, tightly to his chest. He imagined he could feel a heartbeat quickening like his own, that the heat came from Hannibal and not the mechanics keeping him contained.

Will closed his eyes and let himself imagine all this for a moment in the quiet of the office, his gloved fingers running along the ridges of the metal. He smiled softly.

“Time to go home, Hannibal.”

 


	52. Hannictober -- Pumpkins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 1. [tumblr post](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/151270943881/hannictober-day-2-pumpkins-will-was)

Will was uncomfortable for many reasons on any given day, but today it was because of the home brewed pumpkin spice latte specifically made for him in his hand and the fact that Hannibal was at a crime scene interacting with people other than him.

He seemed to get along well with Zeller who seemed to be melting by the second in admiration and newfound attraction written with glaring clarity over every feature. It made Will sip his coffee with lips a little too pursed.

“I admire the creativity and the, what’s the word, gumption.” Price said crouched in front of the decapitated head, set neatly in the row of pumpkins. “Not that it’s not creepy. It is. I’d have nightmares about this if I had any innocence left.”

Will idly wondered if the killer plucked the pumpkin and took it with him. Probably. Even Will had a few of them at home, waiting to be carved and eaten. It was the season and all.

It was sunny and cloudless and even with the head on the ground it was a picturesque day and Beverly exuded that with the perpetual smile tugging at her lips. Beverly looked from Price to Will, shaking her head slowly. She paused on him, eyes set in that way that meant she saw something and was going to say ‘gotcha’ any second now.

Will stiffened and wished he had something to make him look busy or that he hadn’t been caught staring at Zeller and Hannibal and the space between them disappearing at a rate Will found to be alarming.

He wanted to go over there and stand between them, chaperone the conversation.

“So,” Beverly said. She had sidled up to Will’s side without him noticing, she pulled her gloves off and wiped her hands on her pants. She nodded her head to Hannibal and Zeller. “He makes you coffee.”

Will didn’t look at her. He adjusted his scarf. Sipped at his coffee. Fidgeted and attempted to evade.

“He does.”

“Cool, cool.” Beverly was about to nudge him with her shoulder, but she pulled back. Will was horribly grateful. “Smells good.”

“It is.”

“He knows how to make a latte  _and_  he’s cute.”

“This is the fourth decapitated head in three weeks.”

“I can count. I’m just trying to lighten the mood.” Beverly said. Zeller laughed loudly which was followed by the soft little chuckle of Hannibal’s Will would know anywhere. Will hunkered down, shoulders going up to his ears. He would tune them out. “Okay, maybe I’m nosy.”

“I’m aware.”

Beverly laughed. They watched as Price picked out a few select maggots and then prodded at the head’s carved eyes.

Will listened to Zeller giggle and could easily imagine the man’s blush that had nothing to do with the cold and all to do with Hannibal Lecter. He refused to look at them. Maybe if he gave off the ‘upset and about to snap’ aura long enough Hannibal would pick up on it and come back to him.

 _God, I’m pathetic_ , Will thought. He drank more of his latte. It really was good and somehow made every inch of him warmer. Or possibly it was the fact Hannibal had made and given the drink to only him.

“Does this get you in the spirit of Halloween? Buy some candy. Eat all the candy. Carve up a few jack-o-lanterns, preferably pumpkin in origin.”

“Kind of.”

“Me too. That’s weird, right?”

“You probably shouldn’t be asking me of all people.”


	53. Hannictober -- Trick or Treat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU. [tumblr post](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/151315268841/hannictober-day-3-trick-or-treat-living-in)

Living in Wolf Trap and miles from his nearest neighbor Will didn’t get trick or treaters. He had no bowl of candy. No decorations outside. No indications for anyone to infer that he was welcoming in any way. Halloween night was simply another night to him and he held no expectations of being visited by a gaggle of children.

And yet.

Will stared at the small child on his doorstep who in turn blinked up at him with wide, dark eyes that shined red in the moonlight. The little boy wasn’t wearing a costume, but his clothes seemed off. He tilted his head as if Will was as curious and unexpected as Will found him.

Will scrubbed at his face, rubbing his eyes until he saw bright little sparks floating in his vision. The child was still there. Pale and stoic. Beyond him there was no car or parent. 

Just him.

“This is where you say trick or treat.” Will said, hoping to extinguish his nerves and this odd atmosphere that made the hair on his neck stand upright. 

The boy said nothing, simply looking up at Will. Waiting. 

“I don’t have any candy.”

Again, nothing. Sweat began to bead at his temple.

“Did you come here on your own?” Will tried again. But the boy was silent.

Will looked out and around the fields, trying to see if he had missed something. But there was no sign of anyone or how the boy had gotten here on his own. 

It was quiet and still out there. Nothing moved. The world was holding its breath. 

 _He could have walked_ , Will thought. But that was ridiculous. 

The boy had no shoes. His feet were dirty and scratched, but he gave no sign he was in pain. Will’s stomach dropped. A chill raced through him. 

A dog barked, he wasn’t sure which. He shushed them and crouched in front of the boy, looking him up and down and coming away with very little. He couldn’t read him beyond that this boy was curious and patient and waiting for Will to decide.

Decide on what, Will didn’t know. 

“I’m Will,” he said and smiled, it was a nervous twitch of his lips. Will held out his hand. “Can you write your name on my palm?”

It was a long moment before the boy reached out, his small pointer finger was  delicate against the roughness of Will’s hand. Cold to the point of frozen and precise with every movement. Letter by letter the boy slowly traced name and Will repeated each letter out loud.

“Hannibal? Is that right?” The boy seemed to perk up, his cheeks becoming flushed in lively pink. Will didn’t even have to try, he smiled without any effort on his part. “Do you want to come inside, Hannibal? I think I might have some hot chocolate waiting for us in the kitchen.”

Will stood and again held his hand out for Hannibal to take. “I have a few dogs. They’re really friendly though.”

There was no waiting. No hesitation. Hannibal was cold and his skin stung Will’s as he grabbed Will’s hand with certainty.

 _He won’t let you go now_ , rang in Will’s head as he closed the door behind them. The dogs surrounded Hannibal and sniffed him from head to toe. They licked at his face and swiftly began to compete for his attention. 

Hannibal moved closer until he was pressed to Will’s side. He grinned up at Will, his teeth sharp and jagged.


	54. Hannictober -- Scare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-season 3. [tumblr post](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/151414777426/hannictober-day-5-scare-will-woke-and-rolled)

Will woke and rolled onto his side, facing Hannibal. It was dark outside. He’d been asleep since breakfast when he’d taken his medication. Hannibal had the laptop propped up on a blanket and his belly, watching something on mute.

Will scooted closer to see what was playing. The pillow rubbed at the wound on his cheek wrong, it stung and made him grit his teeth, nearly biting his tongue.

“Are you all right?” Hannibal was looking at him, concerned and sleepy and warm. Will nodded and rested his sore cheek on Hannibal’s bare shoulder. His skin was a pleasant burn, he pressed closer. Practically nuzzling. It gave him a clear view of what he was watching.  _The Texas Chainsaw Massacre_.

“Really?”

Hannibal’s shoulders twitched in a vague attempt at a shrug, which Will was fairly sure he wouldn’t be able to actually do anyways.

“It was on the computer.”

“Sure.” Will said. “I don’t know if this is irony or just funny.”

“More educational, I hope.”

Will, heavy limbed and groggy, slapped Hannibal’s arm lightly. “Morphine makes you hilarious.”

“Thank you.” Hannibal knocked the back of his hand on Will’s thigh. “I can turn it off if you’d like to go back to sleep?”

“No, you’re fine. Can you unmute it?”

Hannibal did. “Have you seen this before?”

“Kind of.” Hannibal waited expectantly. “When I was twelve. I only watched the first twenty minutes before I turned it off and slept in my dad’s bed for the next two months.”

Hannibal made a strange sound, some sort of guttural groan, leaning back on his pillow he rubbed his eyes. Will had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

“The image is,” Hannibal sounded pained, “overwhelmingly adorable.”

“You’re so easy.”

“I suppose there aren’t any photographs?”

The last time Will had spoken to his dad, he’d been living near Shreveport. “Do you want to go to Louisiana?”

Through the heavy haze of comfort, Hannibal began to brim with excitement. 

“Really?”

Will snorted. “Just watch the movie.”


	55. Therapeutic Cuddles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 1. [tumblr post](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/152299171841/steps-into-inbox-if-you-write-a-cuddling-au)

Will was trying hard not to think of whatever this was as a date that progressed faster than any date Will had ever had before. It helped to remind himself that the FBI was paying for these sessions and there was technically nothing sordid happening with Hannibal on one end of the couch and Will on the other and several feet sitting silently between them.

Hannibal had slipped his jacket off, unbuttoned his cuffs, and sat on the plush couch, settling in with his arm along the back and looked at Will expectant that he would climb into that all too inviting vacant spot he had created with all the grace and casualness Will had ever seen from anyone.

Will’s throat had gone dry when he’d first stepped into Hannibal’s office and his face was possibly heating the entire room. He was just imagining things. 

Except not really.

“You’re uncomfortable.” Hannibal said.

“No.” Will spoke to his hands which he curled into the hem of his shirt and swiftly unclenched and wiped the sweat of his palms on his jeans. Not uncomfortable, no. Of course not. “I haven’t really–I don’t know what to do, here.”

He would curl in and press against Hannibal. Be held and hold back. When the hour was up was when the problems would become apparent. Will was certain he would not be nearly as elegant in untangling himself from the situation as he should be. He would want to stay in that warmth, which was the problem. He couldn’t allow himself a taste of it because if he did it would be all he would want.

There was something admirable and equally disdainful about the way Hannibal could be so steady looking at Will, reaching in and twisting his insides all around.

“When was the last time you were intimate with someone?”

“Couch-cuddling intimate?”

Hannibal’s smile was more than just an impression. “If you’d like.”

“Long enough that this is making me want to run for the door.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“And yet.”

“And yet.” Hannibal paused. Will examined the fabric of the couch. Soft and lulling and if he were to ever be relaxed he would fall asleep easily. Possibly not even dream. “I would like to move closer, is that all right, Will?”

Will nodded, biting his cheek as Hannibal just as graceful as in any other moment scooted closer to Will. Thighs almost touching. One hand almost on his leg, hovering in that space between them that was growing more unneeded by the second. The heat of his arm warming the back of Will’s neck, making him want to lean back and truly feel it. 

And really wasn’t that the point to all this? Touch. Intimacy. Comfort. Will could have these here. His lack of experience wasn’t judged or poked. These were offered with a steady gaze and a warm body from a man who pulled at him and confused him just as much from the few times they’d met. 

“It’s all right.” Hannibal said, his breath rolling over Will. His hand moved and hovered over Will’s glasses. His nails were finely trimmed and clean and lived on strong hands. “May I?”

Will could only nod. His vision crossed as Hannibal plucked his glasses off, folded them and when he placed them in Will’s jacket pocket, his hands big and firm–alive and hot and human and so hot–Will’s breath stuttered from him. He pushed his head against Hannibal’s shoulder in a rush, burrowing in the nape of his neck. 

He trembled and refused to open his eyes, not wanting to see himself and the way Hannibal must have reacted. But Hannibal had not tensed. His arms came around Will’s back and pulled him closer, hugging Will to his chest as he leaned back into the couch pulling Will with him. 

They were practically laying together, with Will on top of him all elbows and sharp points and he must be uncomfortable and poking Hannibal oddly, but he didn’t move. Too afraid if he did it would stop or he’d succumb to his nerves. He kept still, his eyes shut, a tense ball of uncertainty. 

Hannibal rubbed his back. Going down, down his spine and back up and up and up to his hairline where he pulled just a little to feel good and to not hurt. It was slow and arduous, but Hannibal’s hands kept a steady rhythm. His heart a pleasant thrum against Will’s ears and his breaths a steadying wave against his hands.

Will melted. Going lax and even his heart settled enough for him to enjoy the way Hannibal held him and how their legs were touching and Hannibal’s ankles felt surprisingly delicate and lithe against his own and the smell of his clothes and skin. Unfamiliar, but comforting. He would memorize it and later he’d try to replicate it in his mind as he attempted to sleep.

He was on the cusp of falling asleep now. The drive home would be like a dream.

“That wasn’t so bad?” Hannibal said, quietly into the crown of Will’s head. He idly massaged the back of Will’s neck, fingers tracing the lines of his vertebrae.

“I guess not.” Will bit his lip. He peeked at his watch, making out the time in the dim lighting of his little self made cavern. His session had ended five minutes ago, but Hannibal gave no intention of  _this_  being over. “Is my hour up, doctor?”

“I have no idea. How odd.” Hannibal was laughing. His belly shook and Will found his reaction too pleasant for words or any sort of coherency. “I’d lost track of time.”

“Does that happen often?”

“No.” Hannibal said. He left no room for  _maybe_ ’s or  _sometime_ ’s, no excuse just the simple truth, whatever that meant and it made something inside of Will thrum awake. 


	56. Hannictober -- Kid!Will and Kid!Hannibal + Fanart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannigram Halloween AU where kid!Will takes kid!Hannibal out on his first Trick or Treating (Hannibal is mute and new to the neighborhood and Will is an awkward lil thing with an itchy homemade costume. Crushes are quickly developed.) [tumblr post with fanart.](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/152102886301/hannibal-wrote-quickly-on-his-pad-of-paper-and)

Hannibal wrote quickly on his pad of paper and showed it to Will.

_‘What are you?’_

“A puppy.” Will said, blushing already. He expected Hannibal to laugh like all the other kids. But he didn’t. He nodded, smiling and nice and Will did not know what to do with  _that_. Will skittered to change the subject. “W-What are you supposed to be?”

_‘Satan.’_

“Oh.” Will eyed his horns and his long, long tail that curled around him. “That’s cool.”

Hannibal smiled widely.  _'I thought so too.’_


	57. Love Letters?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 1. [tumblr post](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/153208882581/i-saw-some-script-about-wills-students-staring-at)

“Do you get these often?” Hannibal held the letter in both hands, pinching it at its corners as he was unwilling to touch it more than that. Handwritten with long loping cursive that was more messy than elegant, in Hannibal’s humble opinion. It smelled like cheap lavender. There was a lipstick kiss–deep red, smelling and looking as cheap as the perfume–where the signature was meant to be. 

‘ _–meet you in your office after class, I’ll be there waiting on my knees–_ ’

Distasteful. Horrid. Hannibal wanted to burn it. Instead he set it back on Will’s desk and made a quick note to wash his hands as quickly as possible. For now he quietly unfolded his handkerchief and cleaned the invisible remnants of the love letter off of himself. 

He settled on burning the handkerchief at home. It would be very cathartic. 

Will barely looked up from the crime scene photographs. Blasé about the entire situation–ordeal, really, if Hannibal were to place it into a category. And he did. 

An offensive, inappropriate ordeal.

“A few of them every semester. The students get bored and just want a cheap laugh from the weird professor. It’s really nothing.” Will said, smiling thinly.

A spike of something settled uncomfortably in Hannibal’s chest. He didn’t quite know which to pick at first. Will’s obvious self esteem issues or the fact that  _that_ _many_  students had left  _that many_  letters.

“You don’t see these as genuine?”

Will looked at him oddly. “I see them as little pranks. You’d think being at Quantico they’d have grown out of it by now, but a school is still a school even when the kids are in their twenties.”

“And it doesn’t upset you?”

Will shrugged. “After the first few I was uncomfortable, but at this point. I just think it’s a waste of paper.” Will looked up at him, straightening to give Hannibal a level stare that was more amused than Hannibal thought the ordeal warranted. “It’s really nothing.”

“And yet it’s a persistent nothing.” Hannibal said. He circled around the desk to Will’s side. The perfume stench was a little less and far more bearable now that he was closer to Will’s particular scent. “Do you think your students dislike you?”

“I think,” Will said slowly, lips twitching into that amused smile. “That you’re taking a joke way too seriously.” Hannibal didn’t respond, waiting him out. Will sighed. “They like me just fine. I’m a dick and maybe my comments on their papers can be a little passive aggressive, but I’m fair. They do good work, they get a good grade.”

“And that’s that?”

“Yep. That is that.” He put the photos back into their folder and the folder into his bag. The letter sat on the desk. Will picked it up, skimmed it and laughed. He turned to Hannibal, his eyes bright. “I’m sorry you had to read that. It’s worse than a cheap romance novel, I swear. These kids get desperate for any sort of entertainment near finals.”

“I think you’ve insulted the romance genre.”

Will’s smile turned into a grin and Hannibal preened. “Read a lot of those, huh?”

“I like to dabble in everything, even occasionally a sordid tale of the more carnal desires.” Hannibal said. “I think your admirer could use some work on their adjectives though.”

Will nodded. He folded the letter and promptly threw it in the trash bin. Happiness buzzed warmly inside of Hannibal. They made their way to the parking lot, Hannibal walking Will to his car.

“I think my favorite bit was,” Will paused to get his keys out, turning to face Hannibal. “’ _Your eyes are a sparkling oasis made of sea foam green to which I would like to swim in_ ’. If only they were that loose in their actual essays.”

“It is a bit hard to swallow, yes. Sea foam green is subjective, depending on the light. Though I do agree your eyes are a very swimmable oasis.” 

Will dropped his keys, face going red as he picked them up and adjusted his bag and haltingly tried to not look above the knot of Hannibal’s tie. 

“That’s–” Will said. Hannibal smiled and kept smiling as Will strangled out a few words passed his flustered tongue. “I don’t know what to say. At all.”

Though he enjoyed watching this side of Will more than he could ever have thought, Hannibal also knew when too much was simply too much. 

“Just know my words are genuine.” Hannibal said and thrilled as Will’s cheeks darkened. Compliments were not easy to accept when they weren’t given often or taken with any weight. Will had built up no tolerance when faced with true, unflagging sincerity aimed squarely at the features he tried to ignore. 

“Did you–I mean,” Will scrambled for a change in topic. “Do you want to come over–so I can show you where everything is.” Will shook his head.” For when you watch the dogs?” Will said. His face scrunching up and his fingers lifting to adjust a pair of glasses that weren’t there. 

“I think I remember where everything was.”

“Yeah. I just. I got a new thermometer and it’s a bit tricky, I wouldn’t want you to freeze. Or my dogs to freeze. Just, no freezing in general. It’s a weird thermometer. I can just leave a note and maybe the instruction manual, too. Though I think I might have thrown that out.” Will covered his face with his hand, peeking out at Hannibal through his fingers. The scarlet bridging across his nose went wonderfully with his irritation. 

Hannibal was beginning to suspect that when it came to Will,  _too much_ was just perfect.


	58. A Home Massage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 1. [tumblr post](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/159844346221/i-love-how-you-write-wills-nipples-and-also-the)

In two hours Will will be giving a lecture in front of fifty aspiring FBI agents. It was nearly nine in the morning and Will was sitting on one of his dining room chairs with his feet in a bucket of hot water, trying to make himself appear relaxed, knowing he would not be able to. Hannibal was too good at reading people and, somehow, especially Will, for Will to feign anything.

He had walked in his sleep last night. Woken by Buster nipping at his toes. He had wandered into the middle of his fields, his house a distant dot in the horizon. He had had to pull seven prickly thorns out of his legs and feet. 

He had called Hannibal and Hannibal had driven here despite Will’s half-hearted protests. He didn’t want to be alone, but he didn’t want to be seen like this by Hannibal.

Hannibal, with his hair loose, had given him one look and knew everything and still he kissed Will. Delicately and lingering until Will trembled and was grasping at Hannibal’s jacket. 

“You need to relax. To calm down.” Hannibal had said. Will had simply nodded. Anything would be good, he did not care.

Hannibal filled one of Will’s buckets with hot water from the shower. He eased Will’s feet inside and smiled when Will moaned, the ache of his heels and between his toes easing out of him.

Form the kitchen, Hannibal had brought out Will’s half used bottle of olive oil. He held it up, like an offering that Will did not quite understand.

“Will you let me touch you, Will?” Hannibal said, as if Will would say no. Refuse him now, after everything.

“Yeah.” Will said. _Please_.

-

Hannibal stood in front of Will and poured oil onto Will’s chest. It soaked into Will’s shirt completely, causing the light blue cotton to turn transparent. He began to pant. Unable to move his feet, to spread his legs wider, he could only shift in his seat.

“I feel like a pig about to be roasted whole.”

“An apt analogy, though I don’t plan on eating you as thoroughly as that.” Hannibal said. He rolled his sleeves up. His suit jacket folded neatly over a chair on the opposite side of the table. He had a professional air about him, clinical almost, if not for the slight tremble of his hands.

He pulled a chair up behind Will and sat, embracing Will from behind.

“It’s all right.” Hannibal said into Will’s ear. He kissed Will’s neck and his hands–big and blunt and precise–gripped his thighs and in one long, smooth, horribly wonderful motion, dragged up Will, over his hips, fingers glancing just shy of his thin tented boxers, over his belly that heaved with every breath, and stopping on his chest to squeeze.

The oil smoothed every motion of Hannibal’s hands. His pinches were like liquid, flowing from one harsh pinch of his nipple to soothing them easily with the cup of his palm. He kneaded Will’s chest, lighting every nerve inside of Will, knowing exactly how to work him up and up until Will was clutching at the back of Hannibal’s hands, saying without words _harder harder harder._

Will tensed, his body clenching and convulsing as he came, his feet kicking out and knocking the bucket over, water splashing all over the floor.

Will held Hannibal to him, listened to how heavy Hannibal was breathing and without needing to look over his shoulder knew Hannibal was flushed and spent.

“I think I’m going to fall asleep right here.” Will said. It was true. He could fall asleep like this and worry about cleaning before he had to leave. A ten minute nap sounded amazing.

“Let me clean you up.” Hannibal moved his hands and Will’s entire body twitched. He gasped, nearly squeaked. Hannibal paused and then squeezed him again this time, rolling his nipples between his fingers, his shirt adding coarse, wet friction. 

“Maybe in a minute.” Will said shakily. “Can we do that again?”


	59. Smelly Will Happy Hannibal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-Season 3. [tumblr post](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/159842604431/i-do-love-the-way-you-write-wills-nipples-and-i)

It was the sort of old, run down apartment Will would have had when he first moved out on his own, seventeen and with barely enough money to pay for rent and food and tuition, but happy to be away from Louisiana and the heat and the silence he shared with his dad.

There was no air conditioning. A _kitchenette_ instead of a kitchen. Linoleum flooring that peeled at the corners. An unspeakable bathroom. A yellow stain on the ceiling from a leak that would only be shown to be fixed when the first rain of the year came. 

It was cheap and low profile, nostalgic all on its own and with Hannibal it was home.

Will sat on the couch, his laptop propped up with a few books on the coffee table to make it close to eye level and ease the ache in his neck. The ceiling fan was on full blast, but he was still sweating. The heat had crept in before the sun had risen and now, even with all the windows open, the apartment boiled lowly and steadily.

Hannibal came home with his tote bag full of groceries. He adapted well to any environment. It didn’t matter that this place was no where near as nice as his home had been in Baltimore or even the prison cell he’d spent three years inhabiting. He still made his six course meals. Still hung art on the splotchy walls that needed a new coat of paint ten years ago. Played music that he would hum to, happy and undeniably content.

Hannibal put the food away. Will watched him reexamine an avocado, forgetting the movie he was attempting to sit through to forget about the heat.

“What are you making?” Will said. 

Hannibal folded his tote bag. “I thought we would go out for dinner.”

“Can’t take the heat, huh?” Will laughed at the affronted look Hannibal gave him. 

Hannibal came over, closing the laptop with a gentle nudge, and sat next to Will. He was prepared for the peck on the lips, domestic and quick. Will liked it and made a show of smacking his lips afterwards, feeling light. Perhaps he had sweated all the worry out of himself in the last few weeks.

Hannibal didn’t stop there though, he kissed at Will’s neck, down to where the collar of his shirt had grown damp from the day. Will wrinkled his nose a bit as Hannibal moaned and sniffed and licked at his clavicle, where his sweat had collected. Will angled his head back to give Hannibal more room, more space for his hands to come and cup at his chest, for his nose to follow down and down to the muskiest parts of him. 

His arm was pulled up and Hannibal pressed his nose into the dark, damp nook, bypassing his sleeve completely to go for the hair of his underarm, breathing in so deeply, the point of his nose pressing against his sensitive skin, that Will began to laugh.

He patted at Hannibal’s thigh, wrapped his arm around Hannibal’s neck and pulled him back up. 

“You’re like a dog.” Will said.

Hannibal nodded, a flush to skin that may have been from the heat or from riling himself up.

“It’s become increasingly difficult to stop myself though.”

“Should I not take showers anymore?”

Hannibal smiled, a bit too eager for Will to not want to pinch him just a little. “If that’s what you’d like.”

“Gross.” Will said. Hannibal smiled, accepting of being _gross_ and with his nose, pushed back under Will’s arm and buried himself there, his hands wandering where they wanted, leaving Will to be cooked through and through.

 


	60. Cornobbling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-Season 3. [tumblr post](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/158681045506/post-s3-hannibal-deserves-everything-he-gets-and)

The kitchen was warm from the wood burning oven. There was a loaf of bread being baked inside it now and soon there would be the fish to go inside next.

The catch had been small, but it would do for the next few days. There was always the fish in the freezer, but Will was wary of resorting to unthawing those just yet. 

Will held the smallest of the halibut by its head and lightly whipped the tail, slapping Hannibal on the cheek, leaving behind a wet trail that led to the corner of Hannibal’s upturned lips. There was no surprise or shock on his face, he was–as simply as Hannibal could be–happy to have Will’s attention. 

He wiped his cheek primly with one of the patriotically themed discounted paper napkins.

“There is a word for that.” Hannibal said.

“I’m not above doing it again, just so you know.”

“Cornobbling,” said Hannibal. He laughed at Will’s heartfelt groan. If it wasn’t for Will’s scale covered hands, he would have covered his face to shield himself from Hannibal’s humor.

Will pointed his knife at Hannibal. “ _I am not_ going to ask you how you know that. I’m not.” 

With every ounce of purposefulness, Will set the halibut back onto the cutting board, ready to start descaling the fish and add it to the tray with the others.

Hannibal moved and stood behind Will, circling his arms around him and placing his hands over Will’s. Together they scaled the fish. Hannibal bit gently at Will’s ear.

“You shouldn’t cornobble people who don’t deserve it.”

“If there was ever anyone in the world who deserved a fish to the face, Hannibal, it’s you.”

“That’s not very nice.”

Will could hear his pout and started to smile. “Yeah, yeah.”


	61. Fun in the Trunk -- ABO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 1. Alpha!Will and alpha!Hannibal. [tumblr post.](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/159887969796/i-honestly-love-how-youre-not-afraid-to-write)

A man had been gouged and torn apart. The theory at the moment, the one Jack was happy with and the one Will was uncomfortably sure of, was the killer being an unstable alpha experiencing a steroid enhanced rut.

The crime scene left Will tired and itching to do something. Aggression from the killer was instilled within him, causing him to grip tightly at the car door and his own thigh. 

Hannibal was driving Will’s station wagon. Will had insisted. Being in Hannibal’s car with Hannibal after this would have been too much. Something would have happened and Will was unsure if he would have been able to stop himself with this killer in his head. 

The intent had been to encompass himself in his own scent and the scent of his dogs to calm down. To avoid temptations that would spark any need to strike out. To lure him out of that headspace and back into his own.

But Hannibal was still there, two feet separating them. Comforting and strong. True bedrock. Smelling like masculinity and stability. 

Will could feel his eyes on him before Hannibal pulled over to the side of the road, turning the ignition off without a word.

Will grit his teeth. “What?” 

Hannibal said nothing, still, irritating Will. He unbuckled himself and placed his hand above Will’s thigh, not quite touching him, but hovering in the air, waiting.

“I want to help you, Will. Will you let me?” Hannibal said.

-

It was fifteen passed one o’clock, anyone driving to lunch had come and gone back to work by now. The road wasn’t busy. No one drove by as Will shakily climbed into the back of his car, all the seats had been folded down a week ago when he had taken Winston to the vet, leaving enough room for Will to lie down and for Hannibal to kneel between his legs.

His pants had been pulled off completely. Hannibal didn’t remove one piece of his own clothing, leaving even his overcoat on as he kneaded Will’s bare thighs, working his way up.

Will had his hands over his face, unwilling to look, already embarrassed and close to coming by the sounds of Hannibal slurping wetly around his cock. Spit and precum ran down the length of his dick and pooled onto the upholstery of the car, sticking to his backside.

He tugged at his own hair as Hannibal hummed, his thighs already beginning to tremble. 

Hannibal pulled off, lips resting against the head of Will’s cock. He licked a few times. Will dug his fingers into his scalp.

“Have you ever been with another alpha before, Will?” The way Hannibal said his name sent tremors through him and he pried his hands from himself, stared at the beige lining of his car and then slowly pulled himself onto his elbows and looked at Hannibal. 

His hair had loosened from its tight structure creating a soft fringe that fell in front of his eyes. He had one hand palming at Will’s sack and the other stroking Will’s cock, right at the base where his knot was already beginning to swell somehow. He was a looming alpha beast, a dark mass that had Will keening.

When their eyes met Hannibal kissed the crown of his cock, a string of precum stuck to his lips. He licked it off and Will mirrored him, licking at his own lips, imagining he could taste himself. 

“Once.” Will said, panting. He wiped sweat off of his forehead with his hand. “Back in Louisiana.”

“Tell me about them.”

“Are we in a session right now, Doctor Lecter? I don’t think this could be considered professional.” 

Hannibal squeezed his balls tightly in his fist and sucked hard on only the head of his cock, lips suctioned hotly around him. Will’s knees shot up and his hips thrust upwards, pushing himseld deeper into Hannibal’s mouth.

“I’m gonna knot–” Will tried to warn him, unable to stop himself. Hannibal did not pull off, he sank further down on Will’s cock until Will was fucking his throat, grasping at the blankets beside him for something to hold onto.

Will began to knot. He came in long spurts and Hannibal did not once pull off, he swallowed every ounce of him with a pleased moan, suckling him gently as the minutes passed. One hand wrapped around his knot, working it to fullness, his lips resting against it, too big for him to take inside his mouth too, but wanting to feel him on his lips, Will knew. 

Will never liked knotting. Disliking the idea of prolonging sex and turning it into something uncomfortably intimate. Bonding with someone who would undoubtedly find him strange and awful in the morning.

Knotting in Hannibal’s mouth he could only stare with amazement at Hannibal’s throat bobbing with every new load, how his lips were so red and perfect around Will’s cock, how his eyes were closed, _genuinely pleased_ to have so much of Will inside of him, stretching him, changing the very scent of him.

It was a long time before Hannibal pulled off of Will, a thick rope of saliva and cum connecting them still and snapping away as Hannibal once again licked at his lips, as if he could not stand to lose the taste.

Hannibal did not go far. He cleaned Will with his tongue, Will squirming and whimpering under him–sensitive to even the lightest touch now. He was beyond gentle as he licked his way around Will’s softened prick and circled over his still drawn up balls. 

Hannibal pulled out his handkerchief from his overcoat pocket and wiped his mouth then helped Will, boneless now, dress.

Will spotted it first. There was cum on Hannibal’s sleeve. 

“Let me pay for the dry cleaning, it’s the least I can do.” Will said. His face was still hot–his whole body was overheated. The windows of his station wagon had fogged over. 

“Do you think you owe me something?” Hannibal’s voice was raspier than usual. _Raw_ , Will thought and shivered pleasantly.

Will shrugged. He was staring at Hannibal’s lips and then down at the tent of his pants and tried to stop. “I think it’s what one alpha should do when another alpha sucks them off and–and  _stains_ their clothes.”

Hannibal smiled, all soft edges now. “A true gentleman. But I think I’m all right. It’s an easy fix.”

Hoping to be casual, Will said, “Do you want any help with that?” 

Hannibal seemed surprised. “Would you like to?”

Will bit his lip and nodded. Hannibal with all the grace he had ever shown, crawled over Will until they were truly face to face. Will could smell his semen on Hannibal’s breath and had to fight himself not to moan and grab hold of him and kiss him, to see if he could make Hannibal knot too.

“You don’t have to fight it, Will. Not with me.” Hannibal said quietly as if it were that simple and maybe it was and Will was just overthinking things.

It was easy in that moment, with his hair sticking to the back of his neck and his clothes damp with sweat, with Hannibal’s scent all over him and not minding it at all–actually liking it, even–for Will to let go and pull Hannibal down with him.

 


	62. Poker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 2. [tumblr post](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/159922267396/im-obsessed-with-the-way-you-have-will-and)

The motel room was musty from the combination of the windows being caulked shut, the old heater which emitted a burnt scent trying to keep up with winter, and two grown men occupying a tight space.

It had been Hannibal’s suggestion to accompany Will to Colorado, to inspect a fresh murder scene and possibly apprehend the serial killer, despite how high a risk it was for him to spend any time at all with Will. But he had made the offer and had been surprised when Will had accepted it.

The thought of spending three days with Will to himself was too great a temptation and any suspicions he had he packed at the very bottom of his suitcase.

They sat at the small table, Will on one side and Hannibal on the other. Will had stripped himself of the armor he wore when surrounded by FBI agents and Jack Crawford. He sat in only his under shirt and boxers, legs kicked up on the extra chair. 

He was the picture of a man relaxed and comfortable with his company and a pleasing sight for Hannibal to witness, knowing he was one of very few who would ever see him like this.

Will pulled out a worn deck of cards from his messenger bag. He shuffled them and skillfully dealt the cards.

“Will we be making a monetary wager?” Hannibal said lightly, scanning over his cards and placing them face down. 

“Too boring. Plus, I didn’t bring that much cash with me.” Will thought for a moment. Hannibal spent that time admiring how the lighting, though dull from the two small brass lamps in the room, illuminated and curved around Will’s features, highlighting the curls around his ears in a very attractive manner. 

“How about,” Will looked at him from under his lashes, “whoever wins has to answer a question truthfully.”

“Are you insinuating I lie to you?”

“Maybe I’m the one lying to you and I want to come clean. Why, do you have a guilty conscience?” Will said with forced levity though the smile behind it was slight and real.

Hannibal was captivated. 

-

Will had a plastic cup of whiskey placed on his thigh in one hand and his cards stacked in his other, he tapped them on the table, staring at Hannibal with a small wry grin. 

“Let me guess, you have the other two aces?” Will said. On the table between them were the ace of diamonds and the ace of hearts. 

“If I tell you, I think that defeats the purpose of the game, if I understand the rules correctly.” 

“You do. You always do. You can’t play the ‘ _I’m from a faraway land where gentlemen don’t play poker_ ’ card with me, Doctor Lecter.” 

Will sipped at his whiskey, his eyes shining with good humor over the frosted plastic rim. It was his second. The frost had melted him, revealing a softer man with pinks cheeks who was more prone to biting. 

“When I attended John Hopkins, my classmates and I would often play cards as a way to refresh our minds between bouts of studying.”

“Did you win?”

“When I wanted to.”

At that Will laughed. His face grew a bit more rosy. He was looking at Hannibal with something approaching to fondness and it caused a curious reaction in Hannibal, his own face felt flushed. He looked down at the back of his cards. There was a picture of a sandy beach and palm trees and the word ‘ _Miami_ ’ printed in pink font.

“And what did you bet on back then? I imagine most medical students didn’t have a lot of money to throw around in late night card games.”

“Favors, mostly. Trading residency shifts for better time slots.”

“It’s strange thinking of you in medical school.” Will said, his eyes going a bit glassy as his imagination began to unwind, picturing Hannibal younger and in scrubs. 

Hannibal would have to show him a photograph of a younger version of himself one day. He was interested to know Will’s reaction and interested to know why he wanted to show him in the first place.

“I always pictured you just appearing one day. Dressed in a suit. Shoes shined. Hair perfectly parted. Knowing everything you know today.”

“Do you imagine me often?”

Will twisted his mouth. Hannibal watched as his lips–red from his own nervous chewing and from his drinking–pursed and flattened into something amused. 

“On certain days. In certain moods.”

Will dealt the last three cards to the middle. He laid his hand on the table face up. 

“Unless you can beat a pair of eights, I think I won.” Will said with a laugh. He swallowed the last of his whiskey and looked expectantly at Hannibal.

After a moment Hannibal picked up the remainder of the deck and shuffled his hand back into it and set it back onto the table.

Will cocked his head and rested his hands on his stomach. “Either you got a shit hand and really didn’t want to answer my question–”

“–Or, possibly, I felt I didn’t need a pretense to ask you for the truth.”

“Or that.” Will rubbed at his face, pulling his legs off of the chair to sit up straight and gave Hannibal a level look. “Do you want to ask me now?”

Hannibal shook his head. He collected the rest of the cards, putting them all back into the deck. “Later. When we’re back home, I’d like you to come to dinner. Would that be all right?”

“Okay.” Will said, and then added quietly, “I know you’re not lying to me. Not really. But there’s something you aren’t letting me see.”

“Lying by omission.”

“Is still lying.”

Hannibal held the deck in both of his hands. He ran his fingers around their soft rounded edges. They had been played with for decades. Possibly they had been Will’s father’s, one of the few familial mementos he had bothered to keep.

“Soon,” was all Hannibal could say and Will accepted his answer for the moment. Hannibal’s chest tightened, knowing that acceptance would not last for much longer.

 


	63. Pumpkin Vampire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU. [tumblr post](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/160993910096/so-i-just-read-about-how-in-some-european-folklore)

Hannibal is meant to be in the small chapel of the orphanage with the other boys praying under the watchful gaze of the Sisters.

Instead he is walking through what would be a garden in the spring. But it is winter and has been for many months and, he thinks, it will always be winter at the orphanage.

The ground is frozen. The trees brittle sticks. Snow crunches under his cold feet. There is a hole in the toe of his shoe and the air is biting. It is easier to ignore now.

He stares out to the grey, cloudy sky and then walks down the winding stone path that leads to the very edge of a forest which is dense in rotten trunks and wild, upturned roots.

The orange is easy to spot. It is the only bit of color in the entire country.

—

The pumpkin is much smaller than he had expected. Hardly bigger than his own head. But it is healthy. Alive. The root, though, is brittle.

Hannibal pushes his thumb into the pumpkin’s skin until he is sure he is about to puncture it. He pulls away and sees the indention he has made.

It is not ripe yet. Still too soft.

He thinks about smashing it with his foot. Stepping on it again and again until its seeds cover him. How quickly the skin would give under only a little pressure.

But the trees are dead. The animals gone. The garden is silent and the forest too is bare of nature. Spring will do little for this place.

Hannibal places both of his hands on the pumpkin’s sides. His palms warm.

—

Hannibal plucks the pumpkin and hides it under his bed.

—

Sister Indra scolds him. On God’s behalf, she demands he repent.

She calls him _ungrateful_.

He has never had anything to say to her or anyone else and has nothing to offer her. He stares back and waits for her to be done.

Hannibal is sent to mop the bathrooms and he is to have no supper that night.

—

The older boys are animals.

Hannibal goes to bed holding his side gingerly. He cannot see out of his right eye. It is swollen shut.

The pumpkin is still there when he checks. It is warmer than before. He can feel it through the thin mattress, soothing his rattling bones.

—

Hannibal often has trouble sleeping. He stays awake long after the other boys begin to snore.

He stares up at the ceiling or walks the hallways of the orphanage, noting the differences when the building is dark and asleep to when the nuns and the boys are lurking around every corner.

The quiet is more pleasant.

He thinks of Mischa too and what she would do if she were here.

—

Hannibal has walked to the kitchen to get a drink of water. It hurts his side to move his left arm. He goes back to the dorms and sleeps fretfully. His dreams are rarely enjoyable.

There is a boy sitting on his bed who wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

Hannibal does not recognize him. Blue eyes and dark brown curls that, had they been blond, would have been Mischa’s.

They stare at each other. Hannibal rests his head back down on his pillow and waits. Curious to see what this new boy will do to him.

He is smaller than Hannibal. Wrists that could be snapped with some, only some, force. 

The boy frowns. Hannibal thinks he can hear his thoughts. He likes the idea in a tentative way he is unused to.

The boy reaches up and touches his own right eye.

—

The doctor is called. Three of the orphans will not wake up. Lying stiff in their beds. The doctor’s clothes are fine, his shoes polished immaculately. He looks out of place. Unreal. The Sisters defer to him. 

Hannibal watches them through the cracked open door. He is quiet enough to not be noticed. 

The doctor listens to their hearts. He opens smelling salts. He tries to take samples of their blood, but has difficulty finding usable veins. He prods at their necks, examining them with his brows furrowed.

He says, _nothing to be done, but to wait and see._

_—_

That morning Sister Indra’s skin is sickly pale. Her hands tremble as she leads the prayer before they eat breakfast. Her grip on Hannibal’s hand is painful. When she lets go of him, his skin is red fading to white.

—

Under his bed, the pumpkin has grown hotter. There is a new blotch of red on it. Hannibal touches it. He cannot smell that it has gone rotten.

The red is wet and comes off on his hand. Hannibal licks his finger and tastes that familiar copper of blood.

—

Sister Daina informs them after evening prayers that Sister Indra has taken ill. She is bedridden.

_The doctor declared it a bout of anemia_ , she says, _pray for her_. Hannibal does not believe she means it.

—

The boy appears every night over the next three days. He sits on the bed beside Hannibal, quiet and watchful. He is cold and does not seem to breath.

On the fourth night Hannibal scoots to the edge of his bed, making room for the boy, who lies down tentatively beside him. Hannibal covers them both with the blanket.

There is red on the corner of his mouth.

“It’s so warm here.” The boy says. 

Hannibal nods. _Warm and awful and freezing and lonely and he hates it_.

The boy’s toes touch his, it is a shock of cold. His feet are like ice against Hannibal’s skin, absorbing away all of his heat but never growing any warmer.

The boy huddles under the blanket until there is only his brown curls poking out and tickling at Hannibal’s nose. He presses against Hannibal’s side, curling into him, and he is small and young and frail and smells like copper and iron and the dirt of the woods outside.

Hannibal’s hands tremble as he wraps them around the boy. He digs his fingers into the boy. His skin is soft.


	64. Will Gets Pet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 1. [tumblr post.](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/163421171586/whatthefuckwhatthefuck-ur-tags-on-the-hannibal-gif)

Will does not bring it up. Hannibal, mercifully, has not once tried to broach the subject though Will can see he wants to. If he did, Will would cancel every appointment, quit his job, and really commit to the hermit lifestyle he is practically living, too embarrassed to go on, but Hannibal doesn’t so Will gets to enjoy this aspect to their not quite doctor-patient and not quite whatever-they-are relationship.

They don’t talk about it and that’s good.

It’s Sunday, nearly seven in the morning. Will still has dried mud on his shoes from the crime scene yesterday. He hasn’t slept and he can hear Jack’s voice in his ear, asking for more and only getting from Will a few grunts and a few jumbled sentences that must have made a passable analysis of their killer for Jack to willingly send him back home.

Hannibal looks less surprised than he should with Will–red faced, sweating, dressed in the day before yesterday’s clothes, and unwilling to look him in the eye long enough to see the red in his irides–showing up at his door without calling.

Not missing a step in his hospitality, he welcomes Will inside. Makes coffee and eggs sunny side up on homemade toasted wheat bread.

It’s the simplest thing he’s ever seen Hannibal make and Will eats three servings of it, the third Hannibal places in front of him as though he knows Will has only eaten prepackaged, gas station food for the last few days. And that’s only when he did eat.

Will forgets any manners he has. He shovels the food down. Makes undignified noises, surely. Hannibal sits beside him, quiet and controlled and acting as though he feels none of the anxiety that keeps Will flushed, that this is normal and Will is normal and life will continue to be eggs on toast normal.

Hannibal sets their plates in the sink, letting them soak.

“Shall we?” He says. It’s that easy. _Shall we?_

Will is jittery as he follows Hannibal to the den, silent as he looks at Hannibal’s back, how his shoulders move under his robe and the narrow cinch of his waist.

The sofa is big and soft and the fact that he knows how it feels to lie on it adds to the mountain of _What am I doing?_ he’s been steadily building since puberty.

Hannibal sits at one end of the sofa. He doesn’t cross his legs. He doesn’t pat the couch. He waits, pleasantly with a small smile which says this is exactly how he’d wanted to spend his Sunday morning, that his rhythm for the day was not upset by Will’s appearance, rather Will’s uneven chaotic tempo somehow matches with Hannibal’s coordinated one.

Awkwardly, Will sits on the other end of the sofa and, despite how many times they’ve already done this, he is hesitant and slow as he lowers himself, settling his head on Hannibal’s lap.

The cotton of his robe is soft on his cheek. Hannibal’s thigh is strong, firm. He can feel him twitch as he takes Will’s weight.

From this angle Hannibal is all soft curves, hair loose and falling gently over his once sharp, intimidating cheekbones. Will does his best not to look up, to focus instead on steadying his erratic breathing, the pounding of his heart echoing in his ears. He holds his breath and waits for the first touch.

Hannibal sets his tablet up on the arm of the sofa, the sound of him tapping it causing Will’s anxiety to grow. He should have wiped his face off. Combed his hair. _Showered_. Soon, soon, soon–

Hannibal’s fingers are cold on Will’s forehead. They sweep away the hair sticking to his skin, tucking it behind his ears. He rubs at his ear lobe, a passing touch and starts to comb through Will’s hair in a steady pattern. His thumb presses and soothes at the back of his neck.

Will breathes. He shudders. Deflates and melts into the sofa and Hannibal. The knot in his chest loosens. His eyes fall shut.

Will is close to dosing. Hannibal tells him to sleep, but Will doesn’t. He doesn’t want to miss any touch or tug of Hannibal’s hand. It is the first time in days that his mind is quiet and blank. No blood. No screams. Just the coolness of Hannibal’s hand on his overheated skin.

The morning turns into the afternoon.

Reluctantly reluctant, Will sits up. Hannibal’s hands are folded on his lap. His tablet is off. He is softened and approachable in his rumpled rob and pajamas and it makes it more difficult for Will to keep looking at him. 

“Thank you for looking after my dogs.” Will says. 

“I’ve grown fond of them.”

“You’re surprised.”

“I am. I have little experience with pets.” Hannibal says. “Let me make you lunch before you leave.“

"You don’t have to. Really.”

Hannibal looks at him kindly and a little sad. “You deserve more than you think you do, Will.”

He can still feel his hands on him, Hannibal lingering on his neck, how good it had felt when he’d dig his thumb behind Will’s ear. The tremble that had run through him to his toes.

Will can’t look at him. He stares at the mud on his shoes. He smiles.


	65. Will Gets Pet -- Part 2: Hannibal Gets Pet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-Season 3. [tumblr post.](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/163431409791/i-died-at-what-you-wrote-in-the-tags-about)

Hannibal’s chest is blotted in purples and blues. He tells Will he has three broken ribs and a few more that are bruised. He says all this without any hint he’s in pain, the only clue Will can find is in his speech, the way his voice is raspy and his breaths are slow and often shallow when he talks. 

It takes Will a week for his hearing to come back to anything close to normal for him to notice those tells.

Will knows Hannibal is an unstoppable force and while Will can slow him down there will always be an inevitability to him. Hannibal, broken and bruised and bleeding, still cooks and he tidies and he changes Will’s bandages as well as his own. Will helps when he can, but a broken knee is enough to slow him down to a torturous, half-bedridden pace.

He’s on a steady intake of pain medication and sleeps most of the day, either in bed or on the terrace under the shade of decades of vines. He wakes up to a tray of whatever Hannibal has decided to feed him. Usually something blended together that can be drunk through a straw and will taste awful but keep him alive until his mouth is ready for chewing.

Hannibal sets the tray down on the small patio table in Will’s reach. Will ignores the food and grabs his wrist before he leaves. It’s difficult to speak and he’s well aware how lucky he is that Hannibal doesn’t need an entire speech to get his point to _come here, stay, sit._

Will makes room for him on the lounge chair and Hannibal sits, lilting to one side. His hair is longer. Grayer. He has scruff that’s gone past the itchy stage and into the beginnings of bushy beard territory. 

He watches Will and waits. Years ago he had done the same back in his office and his home. But Will is not as patient, so he pats at his lap and tugs at Hannibal’s sleeve.

Once Hannibal had been shy and Will had been hesitant, unsure of what this would mean now and how this would grow. But it’s been weeks and days and Hannibal is now eager as he settles in a bit stiff, grunting as he lays down beside Will, careful of Will’s knee and his own multitude of injuries. His beard is scratchy through Will’s shirt.

Will wraps his arm around Hannibal’s shoulder, Hannibal places one hand around Will’s side, clutching at him with a hard almost painful grip.

Will runs his fingers through Hannibal’s hair, picking out the different hues of gray and finding the old familiar blond strands that are left. He’s soft and pliant under Will’s hands. His breath is hot against Will’s throat and Will knows he’s looking at him with something too warm for an Argentina summer.

Will doesn’t look back. He keeps his attention on loosening the knots on Hannibal’s neck, on the sticky heat of his back. He feels the bumpy scarred edges of the Mason brand. Hannibal sighs against him and Will pulls him closer and pushes himself further until they are more touching than not. 

He presses his nose into Hannibal’s hair and smells salt and sweat and his lemon scented shampoo. This is what Hannibal must have felt like, how exhilarating it is, no matter how many times they’ve done this, to have the person he wants most in the world melt into him.


	66. Proximity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-season 3. [tumblr post](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/164507957836/regarding-our-lovesick-cannibal-trying-to-get-into)

It had been two hours since either of them had spoken. The boat rocked them gently, their fishing lines sitting still. Not one bite the entire time. 

Hannibal held a blue parasol over both of their heads. The heat was still there though, making both of their skins sticky with sweat. Will watched Hannibal tuck the hair that had gone stray and fallen from his ponytail behind his ear.

“You used to push our chairs closer. Back in your office.” Will said. “During our sessions. Our conversations.”

Hannibal cocked his head and for a moment Will thought Hannibal would claim he didn’t remember. But shame and embarrassment had never been housed in Hannibal Lecter’s mind and body.

Hannibal said, “I did. I wanted to be closer to you, though at the time my reasoning was muddled. You noticed.”

“I almost brought it up a few times.”

“But you held back.”

“It seemed ridiculous to say out loud. ‘ _You keep moving the chairs closer, why?_ ’”

“You weren’t worried you were mistaken, but rather of the conversation that would follow.”

“It would’ve brought to light something I wasn’t ready to look at.”

“And now?”

Will looked at him, his chin resting on the palm of his hand, his elbow on his knee. “Now I know your toes are freezing at night.”

“I’ll wear socks to bed, then.”

Hannibal being practical. It made Will smile. He put his hand on Hannibal’s knee and squeezed.

“No, I like warming you up myself.”


	67. A Soft Fisting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-season 3. [tumblr post](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/164514414826/please-write-all-the-soft-hannigram-forever)

Stuck halfway between a laugh and a belly low groan, Will chokes. He inhales through his nose.

“More.” He says.

“I only have my thumb left.” Hannibal says. His thumb pressing against the fleshy part of Will’s inner thigh. A little reminder. A little hello. His four fingers and his knuckles rubbing and stretching the inside of Will open.

It’s not like last time. 

Will is not hesitant now. He had a solid month of obsessing over the _what if_ of last time. What if he had said yes. What if Hannibal had pushed him regardless of what he had said. What if Will had let Hannibal crawl and shove his way inside of his body. No cut. No knife. Split him open with his bare hands.

Will had wanted it then and Hannibal knew he had wanted it. 

“Do it.” He says. The ceiling is white with dark oak wooden beams running across it. The fan is on its lowest setting and he follows the lazy circling of the blades as Hannibal pushes his thumb inside of Will’s ass, wet and slick and the squelching sound makes him bite his lip.

It doesn’t hurt. It feels big. Hannibal feels _too big_ and he’s inside of Will. His legs are splayed open by Hannibal’s waist, his hips already growing sore. There is a heat crawling through him that’s now rampaging through him entirely.

“You’re shaking.” Hannibal says. With his free hand Hannibal pets Will’s side all the way down to his knee. “How does it feel?”

Will wants to bury his face in the pillows and under the sheets and Hannibal hasn’t even moved yet. _What a gentleman_.

“Big. Huge.” Will says. There’s no air left in him, his voice has gone quiet and ragged. “Like I’m dying. Christ.”

Hannibal makes a fist inside of him and Will laughs, whimpers, at knowing this.

It’s hard to open his eyes, to take in anything other than the sensations of Hannibal inside of him. How hot and thick he is. Will pries his way back into their bedroom and looks at Hannibal, his hair mussed from Will’s hands, sweat dripping down his burly chest and his eyes pinned to Will’s.

“It’s good.” Will says. It is. He wiggles his hips and gasps. _There_. “Really good.”

Hannibal groans. A deep rumble from his chest that sounds painful. He scrapes his teeth against Will’s knee in a soft bite.

“I’m going to move now, Will.”

Hannibal waits for Will’s nod. 

Will attempts to open his legs more and becomes very aware how much he’s trembling as Hannibal withdraws, his hand now in a tight fist, his knuckles the widest part of him spearing Will open and keeping him open, his rim being pushed beyond all sense. Hannibal drives his fist back inside, slowly. Carefully.

He’s too careful. Too slow. Too gentle. Will doesn’t want this to be slow. He wants to be fucked by every ounce of strength he knows are inside those powerful arms.

“Harder, Hannibal.” He says. “Please.”

Hannibal pulls back. Will sees the lube spread over Hannibal’s forearm and pictures what he must look like to Hannibal, flayed open and dripping for him, gaping for him and asking for more. To be turned inside out. 

Hannibal punches back in. Will’s mind goes blank. Hannibal pushes and pushes, making himself fit inside more and more of Will.

Will’s fingers tangle themselves in the damp sheets, Hannibal’s hair, tugging at his own hair, knotting themselves over his eyes in the hope to block out some of that overwhelming sensation as Hannibal stampedes his way into him, his fist–wrist, whole damn arm it feels like–a brutal force rubbing Will perfectly.

Will shakes when he comes, his cock soft, but it doesn’t matter. The tremors force his legs to kick out, his back to arch off the bed, and he grabs hold of any part of Hannibal he can. Shoulders. Arms. Back. Hair. His skin slippery under Will’s scrambling, desperate hands.

He’s still shaking when Hannibal pulls out just as carefully as he had made his way in. Hannibal washes his hands in the bathroom and brings back a wet towel. It’s warm on Will’s skin and he jumps at the first touch of it.

Hannibal wipes him down and Will stares at the ceiling, counting his breaths, listening to his heartbeat calm down. He doesn’t feel all that different. He thinks he might be sore tomorrow, but Hannibal had taken his time stretching him.

“Was it everything you thought it would be?” Hannibal lies down next to him, curling around him. He’s hard. Will moves onto his side and cups him through his boxers, liking how Hannibal’s eyes flutter.

“A lot messier.” Will says. He pulls Hannibal’s cock from the slit of his boxers, jacking him in slow pulls. He keeps his voice low, close to a whisper. The space between them too delicate for anything louder. “You were so hot. I thought you were going to tear right through me.”

Hannibal groans. He kisses Will’s neck and then his chin, just below his mouth. 

“I could feel your heartbeat.” Hannibal says. “Around my wrist. Just under my fingertips as though I were touching you right here.” 

Hannibal places his hand on Will’s chest over his heart.

“God.” Will says. He angles his head down and catches Hannibal’s lips. 

Hannibal comes in Will’s hand and Will doesn’t stop touching him until he’s soft in his palm and his hips are twitching. Will wipes his hand on the sheets between them.

The air is thick with sex and lubrication, the room growing hazy with impending sleep. Hannibal’s hand still on his chest.

Will reaches out and places his hand over Hannibal’s heart.

“What was it like?” Will says.

Hannibal’s eyes are slits, heavy with sleep. _A very big, sated cat_. 

“Warm and soft.” Hannibal says. “Like I was holding your life in my hand.”


	68. First Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-Season 3. [tumblr post](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/164977976726/youre-writingstories-are-exquisite-how-do-i)

“Right there,” Will says, causing Hannibal to pause his carving. “You’ve had this broken hearted look on your face all day and I can’t imagine it’s because of the pork roast.”

Hannibal finishes carving and serving the main course of their dinner. He sits to Will’s left at the head of the table, but doesn’t move to start. Will takes a sip of his wine. He folds his hands in his lap and waits.

“It’s August fifth.”

“All right.” Will says.

Hannibal looks at him, the date a knife in his chest Will is somehow unable to see.

“I would have thought you’d hold some sentimentality for your wedding anniversary.”

“Well,” Will sighs. “Legally I’m dead and not married to anyone.”

Hannibal droops, a slight curve in his shoulders. He touches the gold band around his ring finger and Will can feel his own ring heat up at the focus towards its partner. A needed disguise. Rings belonging to two men that don’t exist.

“I don’t mean it like that. You know I don’t.” Will says. “Molly and I went to the courthouse on a Wednesday morning. She brought Wally’s babysitter to be a witness and paid her twenty bucks to do it.”

“And you were content with that?”

“I was content in the context of the moment.”

Hannibal is quiet. He nudges at his utensils until they are perfectly parallel to each other and the table. He looks at Will from under his lashes.

“In another world I would have taken you to Florence. We would be wed in a proper chapel. The Capella Palatina.”

“A big wedding then?”

Hannibal shakes his head. His eyes are shining as he looks at Will. “Just us and God. Very intimate.”

Hannibal handsome in a bespoke suit made just for the wedding. He can’t imagine either of them would be able to wear white.

“Would there be a dozen white doves? No bags of rice for God to toss?” Will’s tone is light, joking, and exactly wrong.

“I don’t wish to be mocked right now.”

Hannibal stiffens. Though he doesn’t glare directly at Will, Will can still feel the sting. An old hurt Hannibal must still be nursing since he found out about Molly.

“I’m not mocking you, Hannibal.” Will says.

He takes the napkin on his lap and folds it, knowing this will, if only slightly, warm Hannibal to him, and stands.

Out of the dining room Will goes to the living room and pushes the furniture to the walls and when he has cleared a suitable space he goes back to the dining room. He’s flushed and a little sweaty and he can feel his face is already getting red as he beckons Hannibal to come with him. Heart in his throat and all.

“Molly and I never had a first dance. She said she had two left feet and then some. And I never asked.” Will says and steadies himself. He holds his hand out, offering what he can. “Dance with me.”

Hannibal stares at him, quickly going from sullen to surprised. 

“I’ll put something on.” Hannibal says.

“No, just come here. The moment will be gone if you leave.” It isn’t true. Fleeting moments always lingered the most. Will had felt their phantom pull so often in those first weeks after meeting Hannibal. “Imagine something.”

“And you?”

“I’ll follow your lead.”

Will holds his hands out in an approximation of where his hands might go in some formal setting with big gowns and sharply cut suits–one at Hannibal’s shoulder and the other waiting for his hand. It feels immensely silly for the short time Hannibal stares at him, taking in the scene and, undoubtedly, storing it somewhere in his memory palace.

Hannibal is eager and steps in to fill the gaps Will has left, his hand sliding slowly around Will’s waist, tugging him close, and taking Will’s other hand in his own. His palm warm and dry and sure.

Hannibal’s smile is different now, curious as to what Will is up to, the sadness having faded. Will looks at his lips and the red in his irides which stands out more often these days. Or maybe Will is just paying more attention.

“Close your eyes. Think of something slow.” Will says and watches Hannibal rifle through his library silently, the decision made quickly in his squared shoulders. The music has started in Hannibal’s head, Will can feel the beginning strings of the overture thrumming through Hannibal’s hands.

Will closes his own eyes, feels Hannibal watching him for a long time before that familiar tangible weight is lifted and replaced by Hannibal clutching at him, pulling him impossibly closer. Chest to chest.  Heart to heart. Hip to hip. Toes to toes. 

Will laughs lightly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The only response he gets is a warm huff against the side of his face and then Hannibal moves.

It’s odd at first to be pulled and maneuvered without looking to music he can’t hear in a dance he doesn’t really know and Will’s eyes slip open instinctively, catching sight of Hannibal’s quivering face. He quickly shuts them and focuses on the feel of Hannibal. The heat of his hands and his body. How his stomach is soft against Will’s and his breath smells like garlic, which is entirely endearing.

He’s graceful as he guides someone as awkward on their feet as Will. Hannibal moves them slow. When Will does inevitably stumble Hannibal slows down, his grip tightening on him. Will presses his face into Hannibal’s nape. Heady. His chest fluttering in the way it does whenever those sharp edges of Hannibal smooth out to reveal something soft.

They sway together for a long time, the room growing dim with the night, their steps becoming shorter and shorter, their shoes soon knocking together in quiet clicks, and soon they’re standing still, holding onto each other as tightly as they had years ago.

“You think about this a lot.” Will says. He doesn’t lift his head from Hannibal, his voice muffled against his shirt. His hands locked around Hannibal’s back, digging into his strong muscles. Hannibal is playing with Will’s curls, nose pressed to Will’s ear, his breaths a soothing, hot rhythm.

“For years.” Hannibal says. “Haven’t you?”

Shockingly, Will finds he doesn’t feel ashamed when he says, “I thought of you at the courthouse. With Molly.”

“And you said yes.”

“At this point it can’t be that big of a surprise, can it?”

The room is filled with so much warmth, it’s visceral like a thick dizzying, but welcoming haze.


End file.
